Dreaming Wide Awake
by Dancerslife
Summary: In a continuation from Keys, the family dynamic has changed. The parents have married and the children are older. It's almost too good to be true. It's a sense of Deja Vu.
1. I'm A Star

Rusty was sick. The boy had an ear infection. That was the reason his wife didn't show up to her daughter's performance. That had to be the reason. There was no other plausible idea that could prevent Sharon from coming.

Andy Flynn was surprised to have his phone ring at work. He was in an interview with a suspect when the number of the school came up. It was common knowledge among his colleagues that when his phone rang, if it had anything to do with the kids, he was gone. Which was what he did. Flynn stood up from the interview, excused himself, and walked out the door.

The principal of the school was worried about Emily. The girl had realized her mother had not yet arrived and that she probably wasn't going to show. So the drama queen that the little girl was, she informed her principal that she was not going to be dancing. Period. At all. Emily was the only dancer they had. A number was specifically done for the girl.

Flynn parked his car in the red zone – he was a cop. He could park anywhere and he knew it pissed him off. It was something that peeved his wife. Like a civilian, Sharon wanted him to park in a spot and not to hang his job over people's heads. No one cared that he was a cop. No one cared that he could park wherever he wanted. It drove her insane. But this was an emergency; his stepdaughter needed him.

Andy talked to Emily, assured her that he was going to be there before the show started. He promised her that. He swore and as she ever so reminded him, he never swore on anything. It just meant he was serious and she agreed to it.

"Excuse me," Flynn said, going to the vacant three seats that Sharon had reserved for them a few weeks ago.

The curtains went down and his wife was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Rusty or Ricky. Both of the boys would be with their mother. It bothered him, but he couldn't let it because he wasn't there for them. He was there for Emily. That's what he had to focus on.

The show only lasted half an hour. It was a showcase of all the things the various grades did over the year – Emily had two more weeks left of school before she transferred grades. Parents were crowded around the stage, waiting for their child to make their appearance. Flynn watched as Emily came out from the wings. She looked disappointed. The girl hadn't seen Flynn in the audience; she was looking for him, for someone she recognized – he saw it in her eyes as she performed.

Politely, Flynn shoved his way to the edge of the stage and knocked on the wood twice. It garnered the girl's attention. She looked up and met his eyes and the look of disappointment blossomed into pure joy. The sparkle in her eye reminded him of her mother when Sharon was over joyed. Flynn took Emily, lifting her above his head and brought her down to his hip. She was too old for it, but he didn't mind. Not at the moment anyway.

"Did you see me?" Emily asked immediately.

"I did," he said, reaching into his coat, pulling out a rose that he had tucked in there. "For you madam."

She took it and grinned, giggling as she buried her nose into it. It was her first rose. Flynn anticipated there would be more in the future.

"What do you say we go home?" Andy asked, offering her his hand.

Emily nodded and went into a descriptive analysis of the evening. She was like Sharon, over analyzing everything down to the last detail. She was a perfectionist like her mother. Everything had to be in the exact spot or else all hell would break loose. The girl practiced her routine day in and day out on the weekends, after homework and after dinner, she'd call attention to herself to show them what she had finalized.

In the future, Flynn could just imagine the prima ballerina that this girl would become. Opening night, his wife would be on one side, holding his hand. The boys would be on the other, their attention on anything and everything but the stage. If they were anything like they were now, Flynn figured it would take some bribing to get them to go in the first place. His wife would have tears in her eyes, telling him to shut it while she tried to brush away the one that had yet to fall.

She sat in the back seat, on her side, right behind the driver. He could see her in the rear-view but it was difficult to turn to look at her. Emily had become quiet on the ride home, her attention out the window watching as the city passed by. His phone chimed and he looked in the rearview to gauge her reaction. She did nothing. She simply sighed and propped her head up on her hand, the elbow resting on the sill of the window.

His wife and the kids were not home. It bothered him but he wasn't going to let her see it. He fixed her dinner, made her do her homework and by the time she was all done it was a quarter to ten. Sharon would kill him if she found out Emily was up that late. But if she wasn't there, neither were the boys, it meant the boys would be up too.

"Is Mommy mad at me?" Emily asked from beneath her covers. Andy usually put her to bed on nights when Sharon was out.

They took turns when it came to staying late at work. There would be nights where he had to stay late, there was no alternative and Sharon had to leave work without a notice to go and pick up the kids from one of the parents who they called last minute.

"Rusty wasn't feeling good," he said, smoothing her hair back. "She might have had to get him some medicine."

Emily nodded and curled further down into her bed. Andy tilted his head and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Why didn't Mom come?" Emily asked, her voice breaking a little. "I really wanted her to come."

"I know you did," Andy tried. "I know you did, but guess what, she'll never miss another one, I can promise you that."

It was a risk he was willing to take. Making promises for Sharon is what got him into trouble in the beginning. He had promised Ricky something for Sharon and she couldn't come through. The boy had been devastated and she was furious. It made her look like a bad parent, and while that may be, he would do it again and did. Now. For Emily.

He stayed until Emily fell asleep. He backed out of the room slowly, closing the door quietly, and stepped out into the hallway. He debated on going to bed, but he wanted to wait for Sharon. He knew that since she had both boys she would need help. Having three kids was difficult, but they managed.

Changing into his sweats, he heard the door open and close. Sharon's muted whispers traveled through the hall, the front door a straight shot from where he was. If she got lucky, Sharon would have the boys come down the hallway and he'd see them.

"Hey," Andy whispered to a lost looking Ricky.

The boy turned at the call and smiled. He ran down the hallway and lunged at Andy, his arms coming around the man's neck easily. He buried his face into the neck and kneed him in the chest.

"Where'd you go?" Andy questioned. He tickled the boy lightly. "Huh, buddy?"

"Rusty is sick," Ricky sighed. "I'm tired."

"Yeah?" Andy inquired. "Let's get you to bed huh?"

Sharon had slipped into the boys room while Andy was finishing up changing Ricky. The boy wanted the dark blue pajamas, instead of the red ones he normally wore. Andy knew the blue ones were clean, but Sharon – he really didn't care. He was pulling on the boy's shirt when she came in.

Andy tossed a look over his shoulder to Sharon holding the baby. The kid's face looked pale, his eye's bright red. He looked miserable. Sharon looked exhausted. She looked defeated.

"Mama," Rusty mumbled pathetically.

"I know," she said before pressing her lips to his forehead. His temperature was down, non-existent practically, which was good.

Sharon laid the boy down in his bed and took a knee next to it. His hair was matted to his forehead, drenched in sweat that was drying, no doubt from his fever breaking.

Andy kissed Rusty's forehead, wished the boy a goodnight and left Sharon to her sons. He was waiting for her when she came out. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed against his chest, legs crossed at the ankle; he was debating on what to tell her. He was pissed he got pulled out, he wasn't pissed that he got to see Emily dance, even though he told her there was a good chance he wouldn't be able to. Sharon had told her she would be there and would tell Andy all about it. Emily was okay with that. Everything else wasn't accounted for.

"Rusty has an ear infection," Sharon said, pulling a glass down from above the sink. "Double ear infection. Had a 100-degree fever and was vomiting. The front of my dress is ruined."

It would explain why she was in jeans and a t-shirt. It would explain why she looked so plain.

"Ricky was so good," Sharon beamed. "He sat with the nurses while they checked on Rusty. The doctor even gave him some cookies. He even held Rusty's hand when they poked him with a needle."

Andy simply nodded. He was glad that Rusty was okay. He was happy that Rusty behaved himself but he was going to bite his tongue on the Emily situation. The more Sharon talked about the boys the more aggravated he got. It was like she forgot about Emily. Like she forgot her oldest child had something important in her life today and she wasn't even mentioning it.

He huffed, garnering a look from her. He shook his head and pushed off. Emily's dish was still in the sink and he needed to occupy himself. If the anger were bad, he would take Sharon's glass and shatter it against the nearest wall. He was better than that. He's done that. She bared witness. So he made use of his hands.

"Emily got a standing ovation tonight," he said over the sound of the spray of water. "Your daughter did a perfect pirouette and got a standing ovation."

Sharon said nothing. She simply stared at her husband in disbelief.

"She did so good tonight Sharon and you know what she asked me?" He questioned and was met with silence. "She wants to know why you're mad at her."

"I'm not."

"She doesn't know that." Andy growled at her. "Emily wanted you there and you weren't. Bottom line. If Rusty was sick? Fine. That's fine. Kids get sick. But you should have called. Called me, called worked, called the school – someone should have told her something definitive instead of me trying to cover your ass."

Time and time again did he hear the horror stories of young kids not knowing where there parents were to have him tell them that they weren't coming home. Ever. He didn't want to do that to his kids.

"My phone died," she said. "I left my charger here. I thought – I couldn't – my attention was on Rusty and he just-"

Andy took a step forward. The anger that had melted into disappointment was gone. His wife was exhausted and starting to break down in front of him. The realization that she was putting the child that wasn't biologically hers ahead of her own – how would that look to Emily and Ricky? The boy was their brother, sure, but that was only on paper.

He cupped his wife's face, the tears staining her cheeks. She wasn't a bad mother. It hit him that she simply forgot. No she didn't forget, she was distracted and she let distraction win.

"She's asleep right now," he said. "She'll understand if you just tell her that Rusty was sick, Sharon. Tell her the truth."

"She sounds like a victim's family member," Sharon murmured into her husband's chest.

"Isn't she?" Andy questioned, pulling back. "It can wait until tomorrow."

He hit the lights and let the stand in absolute darkness. Before he went into the bedroom to change he did a tour of the house, checking the locks on the other doors, making sure everything was good. It was an occupational hazard to double and triple check the doors of his home. He wasn't a well-liked person; he had put enough wackjobs away to give them all a personal vendetta. He didn't want any of them being taken out on his kids.

It wasn't until Sharon was in bed, curled up against Andy who was reading a file that she spoke again.

"She was wonderful?" Sharon questioned.

Andy put the file aside; a mixture of paperwork and evidence that had to be looked over and corrected. He slid down further into his side and ran a hand up and down his wife's arm before settling it against her hip. He pulled her to him and simultaneously rolled onto his back. A hand came to his chest and a puff of warm air to his neck.

"She was the star." He said.

It pleased her that her daughter was growing up. It scared her that her daughter, well, really, all her children were growing up. No more did she have children running around with babbles. No more did she have children who needed to go to the potty together. It was only one – the baby who was still in diapers but thankfully learning to use the bathroom. One day she wouldn't be needed. One day they would be able to do things on their own. That scared her more than anything.

Sharon knew that one-day, on a marquee somewhere, her daughter's name would be in bright lights. The late night call of panic, her self-doubting bone that she had, forcing her to call her mother. Sharon would answer; spend all hours of the night convincing her daughter that she will be spectacular and the audience would love her. It proved true, at the young age that Emily was now. It only would mean more to her when she was older. Sharon just had to prove that no matter what; Emily would always be Sharon's little star.

* * *

This is a continuation of Keys, which you should read first. It'll give a better sense of the world.

 _I'm A Star: sung by Eden Espinosa; Dreaming Wide Awake, written by Scott Alan_


	2. Surrender

A crick in his neck had Andrew Flynn rolling his head on his shoulders. The suspect across from him was rambling, going on about some dead junkie he used to sleep with for a score. The suspect mentioned her by name once and then referred to the woman as 'her' or 'she'. His notes in front of him had a lot of scribbles – trying to keep up with the man.

His morning had been interrupted by a phone call from his ex-wife. Their son fell off his bike and skinned his knee. There was no need for a doctor, just a Band-Aid and a kiss to the skin – that was it. Easy. He had seen Sharon do it a thousand times with Ricky. Andy assumed his ex could and would do that same. Except, as he was getting ready to shower, his phone went off again, demanding him to come.

Across the valley he went and by seven thirty, when he should have been driving towards Downtown he was nowhere near. He left his wife and her kids to fend for themselves – Sharon was mad at him for running to his ex-wife, but he made it about the boy and not about her. It seemed to settle Sharon down a bit; if it didn't Andy didn't care.

Flynn scrubbed a hand through his hair, over his face and settled his hand on the table with a light thump. It slowed the suspect's roll, his story starting to lose steam. Good. He had been in there for nearly two hours now and due to some sort of bullshit regulation, Andy couldn't up and leave the room to stretch his legs. He had to get a confession of some sort, get the suspect to sign it and then the Detectives could leave. There was no wiggle room and he really didn't feel like arguing with the author of the regulation. Not when he did it almost every day at home.

"Listen," Flynn said, waving at the guy to stop. "I don't care what you and Sunshine did. What I care about is what you did. And I want to know is did you hit the girl over the head with the lamp or not?"

The victim had suffered from blunt force trauma. There was another lead taking them in the opposite direction of their original line of investigating. A robbery had gone bad, involving a woman dead – a body posed haphazardly in the living room to make it look like she killed herself by the fire. A sense of poetic justice one of their interviewees mentioned.

"It was this circle thing man," the guy across the table said, throwing his hands up. "I don't know if it was a lamp or not. But it was round it was heavy and the dumb bitch wasn't even looking. Next thing I know, POW, bitch on the floor dead and cold even with the fire."

Andy wrote POW on his notebook, emphasized it and added a small smiley face next to it.

Another piece of regulation that had been recently put into place was that the notes for the case – any and all – would have to be categorized and put into the boxes marked 'Case Notes' for FID to look over. It was the chief's decision – someone decided to leave a kid in the middle of gang territory full well knowing the kid was going to get killed. FID and the Chief wanted to avoid that again – so – the notes needed to be turned in and the notes needed to match the tapes from the interview. He knew his wife was going to be reading them, so the smiley face was for her. Anyone else it made him look like an asshole.

With his wife on the mind, Andy slipped out of the interview room. His job was done. He got a confession and he could leave. There was a bit of a reprieve in his legs as he stood and began moving. The blood flow was getting back to his feet, giving him movement. He was going to call Sharon, interrupt whatever case file she'd be deep in and take her to lunch. But the auburn wave of hair that met him outside, in the middle of the squad room, deterred him from that.

Sharon turned, her hand flat against his desk. She looked scared, which scared him and heightened his senses. Maybe something happened to her kids, maybe something happened to _his_ kids and she couldn't get in to tell him. The look of despair in her eyes made him anxious. It made him nervous. She was never like this and yet here she was, standing in the middle of the room with no one to decipher her silence stance.

"What do I owe this pleasure?" Flynn questioned, resting a hand on her hip, leaning in to kiss her.

She moved and he caught her cheek instead. That was a red flag. He brushed it off. Whatever was bothering her, she'd tell him. She always did.

"I'm leaving," she swallowed. "Work early – I'm not feeling good."

"C'mere," he said, taking her by the elbow, and pointing her to the hallway where they'd have a little bit of privacy if anyone decided to come back. "What's up?"

"Do you love me?"

The question came from nowhere. Of all things to be asked that wasn't one of them. Did he love her? Of course he loved her. He told her that every day. Words meant something to her, which is why he said them, why he showed what he said was true. He loved her to the point of disposition – if she stopped, he'd die. There would be no life for him because she was it. She was the crux of everything. She knew that.

"What the hell?" Andy questioned instead. "Did Jack call you or something?"

"Jack died, Andy," she swallowed.

Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to fall. He took a step forward, when she looked like she was going to collapse and brought her to him. An arm around her waist, kept her upright, a hand in her hair kept her close. Andy swallowed hard. This was – he didn't dare ask, but the voice in the back of his head wanted to know. He wanted to know if Jack was overruled by addiction.

"He was –" she whimpered. "They found him this morning. Right after you left. He – they found – everywhere."

Andy shook his head. "Found what Sharon?"

"The alcohol." She said, her voice breaking even further. It was hoarse. "The landlord said hundreds of dollars in alcohol- he must have been drinking for days."

Not days. Hours. All day. Anywhere between eight and twelve; more or less wouldn't make sense. The rate in which Jack shot down the alcohol and the size of bottles had to be factored in. Andy wasn't going to tell her that. Not now. Not at the moment. It wasn't polite but one day she'd need to hear it. She had to hear about addiction from an addict.

"Let's get you out of here," he said, pulling her closer.

The curious look from Provenza had him scribbling down a note on his desk. Sharon had become mute in their short walk. Her face had become ashen; her body rigid, her focus was on nothing in particular. She would only respond to Andy and even that was difficult.

"Go," Provenza said, pointing with the note. "You're covered."

Flynn nodded in gratitude. An arm around Sharon again, his head dipped and he whispered nonsense in her ear. It was garbled nothing but she nodded and she turned her head enough to allow him to kiss her. They never displayed their affections at work. They just didn't – but she wasn't there as a police officer. She wasn't there as the woman who took apart their case files with red ink. She was the mother of two children who no longer had a father.

He left her in the car as she climbed the stairs to the kid's school. Being three years apart, it provided them some comfort that the kids were in the same place. It was a five-minute drive from the apartment, a ten-minute walk in the morning if the kids were feeling up to it or if they weren't running late. Their teachers were nice, kind and loved both kids.

It was the summer session and Sharon wanted them close. Emily fought her mother on walking home after school. The girl was old enough to do it and the walk wasn't that far, but occupational hazards allowed them first hand knowledge of what happened to young children who walked home from school. Sharon deterred her from the subject, promising that when she was older, maybe, maybe she could.

"I'm here to pick up Emily Raydor and Ricky Raydor, please." Flynn said, signing his name on the clipboard and giving the woman behind the counter a smile.

Her name was Betsy. Flynn had met her once or twice when neither Sharon nor him answered his phone and the kids hung out in the office until they picked them up. For Christmas, Sharon sent the woman a lovely card, a gift card inside and expressed her gratitude. Betsy never minded since they were both good kids.

"Is there a way that we can get the kid's homework faxed?" Andy questioned. "We're taking them out for a week."

It was another executive decision. She was in no form to parent. He was going to do it.

"Family vacation?" Betsy questioned. It wasn't unusual that parents took their children out during summer.

"Not exactly," Flynn said. "Their Dad died this morning."

"Oh I thought- " Betsy began, pointing at Flynn. "Never mind. Of course. I'll let their teachers know."

He heard the pitter patter of feet that alerted him to Ricky. Andy gave the woman a smile and patted her hand. She really was nice.

"ANDY!" Ricky yelled, his voice echoing.

Andy winced, but nevertheless prepared himself for the catapulting child that leaping into his arms. Andy tossed him up, letting him go – the child's favorite thing - and settled him on his hip. Now they waited for Emily. She would ask the questions. It was just after lunchtime and they never were taken out so early. It hit him then, that on Monday's Emily and her class had dance. It was why they decided to enroll her in the summer session because of the dance class. It happened right after lunch.

"You have a good day at school?" Andy asked.

"We did colors," Ricky said, grinning up at him. "What you do here?"

"I'm here to pick you and Em up," Flynn said, tickling the kid's stomach, earning a delightful squeal. "Is that okay?"

The boy nodded and a woman appeared around the corner with Emily at her side. The kids were escorted out, usually by an aid that was in the classroom if needed. It allowed the teachers to continue their lessons without being interrupted.

Emily's eyes brightened at the site of Andy and them darkened at the realization that Andy was there. Nevertheless the girl smiled for him and let go of the aid's hand when it was appropriate, running to him, and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Hey," Andy laughed, patting her head. "How was school?"

"Good!" she exclaimed, grinning up at him.

"She was, as always, delightful," the aid said. "He on the other hand got benched today."

The woman said was giving Ricky a small smile.

"Recess involved him climbing on the jungle gym when I told him no," she said, explaining the situation.

Andy nodded and shifted the kid on his hip. "Thanks. I'll talk to him about it. They're going to be out for about a week. We had an incident at home."

Emily looked up at him.

"That's fine," the woman smiled. "We'll send work home in a couple days."

"Thanks," Andy said taking Emily's hand.

It wasn't his place to tell the girl who had grown silent next to him. It didn't hit him until he was knocking the door open with his hip because Ricky refused to get put down, that Emily might have assumed he was there because Sharon was hurt. He stopped, just outside the door, the car in his peripheral and turned to Emily.

"Your mom is fine," he said, curling a finger under Emily's chin, a motion Sharon did when she wanted their undivided attention. "She's just sad."

"Why?"

Emily was old enough now to understand the basic aspect of life and death. One day you're there, another you're not and will never come back. She understood that from time to time mean people took away people's happiness and prevented them from coming back. Mom dealt with those types of people, him too. Sharon and Andy sat Emily down when Beth died and explained it to her. Life just wasn't fair.

Ricky was still too young to understand yet. He just was told that Beth was never coming back. This thing with Jack, Jack was never around much – Rusty might not have a memory of Jack there, let alone being a father. Emily on the other hand – she would. Jack was her father who sent her postcards – this was going to hit her hard. Which was why Andy was taking yet another executive decision.

"Em, do you remember when Beth died?" The girl nodded. "And I told you that sometimes bad things happen to good people?"

Emily nodded. It was the morning of Beth's funeral – Emily was in the bathroom with Sharon and Sharon had been crying. Andy picked her up, carried her out and let Sharon have a minute to herself.

"Emily, your Dad died this morning," Andy said truthfully. "They called your Mom to tell her."

She gasped, her little girl eyes widening. "He's gone?"

"Yes," Andy nodded.

"Never coming back?" Emily questioned.

"Yes," he said again. Emily looked around; looking for the car and Andy moved her in the direction.

Emily took off running, the recognition of her mother in the front seat propelling her. Sharon had the door open and was out of the car before Emily had a chance to do anything else. The girl was wrapped up in her mother's arms quickly and fiercely.

Andy watched as his wife slid her eyes clothes, breathing in her daughter's scent before looking up at him. It wasn't his place, but he knew his wife. Telling her children that they no longer had a father wasn't something she would be able to do. Andy was the second party. He was, not necessarily neutral, but he wasn't Dad. He had a little bit of distance.

Carrying Ricky on his hip, Andy went down the front steps. This was going to be an unbearable week – he would still have to work, he knew. She wouldn't let him mull around the house with her while she figured out the arrangement for Jack's service. If memory proved right, Andy remembered a brother on the East coast that might be able to come down and help.

The rest of the night involved Andy making sure the kids had been fed and bathed and ready for bed. Emily was quiet, talked a little about school, and disappeared into her bedroom to do her homework. Not that it mattered, but she wanted to do it. Ricky was playing with his cars while Rusty played with the blocks that they got him earlier in the year. Sharon spent most of the time on the phone, with work, with a priest, with her lawyer; she spent an hour on the phone with the banks, letting them know about Jack's passing and requesting that the funds be transferred over to the joint account that she set up for the children.

Flynn was at the sink, elbow deep in soap and water, washing the day's dishes when a pair of hands traveled up his back. They traveled up and they traveled down, winding themselves around to the front, where they rested against his stomach. He paused the dishwashing, reaching over for the dry rag and cleaned off his hands.

Easily enough he turned, taking his wife's face in his hands and kissed her. He deepened it easily enough; a tilt of the head was enough to do it. His thumbs brushed her jaw; her hands roamed his chest, her fingers curling into the material, holding on for dear life. She moaned that melted into a whimper, a gasp of air in his ear as he pulled back, to kiss down her neck.

There would be no sex tonight – he wasn't going to take advantage of her. He'd be content to hold her as she cried over the loss of her ex-husband, the father of her children, her first love. He wouldn't use that to get what he wanted – he wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to mourn the way _she_ wanted to mourn. Making her feel loved was something he could do, easily.

"Emily is heartbroken," Sharon shared with him. "She understands but doesn't want to."

"That's denial," Andy shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if she's a little quick tempered in a few days. Or tomorrow."

"Ricky has no idea and Rusty-"

"Rusty isn't Jack's. He's yours. All you," he said, stopping her. "The boys are young. They don't get the finer nuances."

"I hope they never do."

It would be a few days before they buried Jack. Before Sharon would be able to bury her past with her ex-husband. Andy and Sharon fought over the littlest things in the days leading up to the service. One night Andy went as far as sleeping on the couch because even _he_ was mourning. He was angry with Jack for leaving his kids. He was angry with god for taking the kid's father away. He was angry with Sharon because she refused to get angry. He wanted to give the kid's their father back, no matter how much of a sleaze he was.

He realized, the mourning of Jack's funeral, as he loaded the three children into the black town car that was sent to pick them up that he surrendered. He surrendered to the past, to the future, to them; he was Sharon's husband. He couldn't do what Jack did. He refused to leave her alone. He was her children's stepfather – the only paternal role model they had now. He surrendered to the possibility that he'd wake up and it would all be a dream.

If it was all a dream, he would lose Sharon, he would lose the kids; then he would have surrendered to addiction and let it claim victory the way Jack unfortunately did.

* * *

Thank you very much for the love! Keep it all coming!


	3. Magic

This thing between Sharon and the dark started a week ago. It was nearly a month now after Jack died and the woman was relentless. It was partially why Andrew Flynn really liked his step-kids having friends who lived a good distance away. He was also glad that the baby could sleep through practically anything. The reason being, his wife was making noises that were not sophisticated for young ears.

Sharon had pulled him out of bed when her phone went off, close to two in the morning, for a shower. They had to go in, which meant, the sooner the better. The baby would sleep in the car; Sharon would take him to day care where he would sleep and the lovely civilians who ran the center would change him into the clothes Andy provided. Sharon had forgotten – gotten frustrated if she was even a few seconds late past the time she told Provenza, or Tao, or whoever she was on the phone with, that she'd be in the office. More than once she snapped at Andy to get the baby and just to deal with it.

Dealing with it, for Sharon, was Andy's equivalence to alcohol. She was using him as he would use a bartender; to get what she wanted. No matter the hour, no matter the day, no matter what was presently going on, she'd pull him out of a meeting, pull him out of a stack of papers and into a supply closet. Work had always been off limits – even before they got married –before the crap hit the fan years ago. It was a no-go zone and yet here she was breaking her rule.

The first time she demanded he touch her. Her voice was raw as he brought her to the edge and a sharp cry let out when he threw her over it with no apparatus to catch her. Standing on shaky legs, the woman regarded him and it was the first time he realized that this wasn't his wife. Besides the work situation, she wouldn't have begged him that way. She would have taken control, as she was prone to do. Or he would have taken her unsuspectingly, with a trail of hot kisses up her neck.

Another time, when they were home, she purposely picked a fight. She threatened divorce, she told him she was going to leave and never come back. It was then that he overstepped the boundary of personal and private, work and home – he challenged her to leave, almost handed her the keys to do so and told her to be like Jack. Jack left the kids because he couldn't deal with the reality of life. If she wanted to be like Jack, to be with Jack again, because she missed him so – he told her to go.

It was a slap to the face he knew. He had a temper; that much she knew and she knew how to handle it. But when they were both on edge it was fair game. It was a fight they hadn't had in a while. Where hurtful things were said, were done, and they'd fall into bed in a heap of emotion, battling it out, inflicting pain that would turn into pleasure until one or both passed out till morning. They had been coming to blows a lot lately.

"Shit Sharon," Andy cursed into her hair when it was all said and done.

His wife shoved him back, away from her as she took a shaky breath. The night before, well, a few hours before she had been worn-out from crying. Their respective friends had picked up Ricky and Emily and the woman had put the baby to sleep and just cried. Sobbed into her pillows for her ex-husband who she missed. She missed the way he held her, the way he loved her, the way she felt in his arms. Sharon told Andy all of this and the man couldn't help but feel second best. A re-bound. What just happened only buried that feeling deeper.

Sharon stood in front of the vanity, her hair being dried as quickly as she could manage. They had ten minutes to get dressed and out of the apartment. The darkness in her eyes, propelled Andy forward. He reached around her front, surprising her, despite the fact that they locked eyes. A caress to her stomach, his fingers curled into the material of her towel, pulling it away. He forced her to stand there without any barrier.

Instinctively she curled in on herself, shivering at the cold. For half a second he realized this was cruel. This was unfair to her and unfair to him. It would be that way if he didn't love her.

His hands traveled, his fingers found their purchase of skin and he loved her. He loved her until she was crying into his shoulder, the wall of grief starting to grumble. She would hate him later for it, for making her vulnerable and if she could swing it, make him think he took advantage of her. But later they'd talk.

A knock to Sharon's office door, hours later, after they found their body that was missing in the hills, and after an arrest of a pair of teenagers who had enough cocaine to sell to a city, Andy went to her. She would be sitting behind her desk with the stack of papers. Her mind would be frazzled. She wasn't able to focus on anything. She had a hard time of that lately, he knew.

"Hey," he said softly, entering anyway, when he didn't hear her usual approval of entrance.

Sharon's head was tilted back, her eyes closed. She was exhausted, as was he. If he was being honest, he caught a few minutes of shuteye here and there. A quick nap was enough to keep him going.

"Our first date he took me to this little restaurant close to the pier," Sharon said, her voice thick. "We were young and naïve, fresh out of a class, I think – I'm not sure. I don't really remember, but he was so kind. Those blue eyes just – they were magic."

She sat forward as Andy sat in the chair across from her. It was the most he talked to her in a few days. Given, he wanted to talk about her affair with obscurity but he would wait. He would wait before he called out her addictive qualities and forced her to see it.

"He knew," she said, shaking her head. "He knew I was – that I was no longer his. One day I was happy, the next I was miserable. He knew it, he stepped up, he just didn't know why."

Andy assumed it was around the time they first broke up.

"I'm miserable now," she continued on. "You know why, you've stepped up, and yet, here you are."

"I'm not going to leave you, Sharon," Andy said firmly. "Not again."

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He smoothed a hand over her hair, burying his fingers into the waves. He tilted her head back and forced her to look at him. Scared, sad, angry swirled in the green orbs of hers. He would take her now, on her desk, if even a little of that would disappear.

"I love you," he told her. "I'll love you today, I'll love you tomorrow."

He took her hand in his and brushed the rings she wore on her finger. The promises he made her, she kept every day. The rings were a reminder.

"I told you that then," he continued on. "I'll tell you that whenever you need to hear it."

With that he left. He wasn't able to be with her again until he got home. She took the car when the day care closed and went home. Sanchez had dropped him off, his mother's house on the completely opposite side of the valley. Apparently the man liked a night drive and didn't mind it. For that Andy was thankful, and expressed his thanks with a nod, before closing the door and stalking up the driveway.

He was met with screaming and crying as soon as he stepped in. Emily was standing in the middle of the room with her hands over her ears, well one, as she tried to clear up the table and the mess her brother's left.

Rusty was in his seat, crying, throwing the food that was left and Ricky was on the floor screaming and crying. Relief flooded Emily's face as she saw Andy step into the room.

"Where's Mom?" Andy questioned the girl.

Emily pointed down the hallway and Andy nodded. He picked up Ricky and took Rusty out of his seat, heading down to the bathroom to clean them both up. Dinnertime was over. Bedtime was next and he was going to get Emily the largest present ever if Sharon left her alone to deal with the mess.

A soft knock on the bathroom door pulled Andy's attention from the tub and the splashing boys. Emily stood in the frame, her eyes dark, her hair pulled up into a messy bun. She looked as exhausted as he felt. He logged a twenty-hour day.

"What happened Em?"

"Ricky threw a fit at dinner," she explained. "Mom made some spaghetti and potatoes and Ricky flipped his plate."

"I di-n't." the boy defended from the tub. "I no like po-a-oes."

"Potatoes," Andy corrected smoothly. "And yes you do like them. So why did you throw a fit?"

"I no know," he shrugged, bringing down the boat in his hand with a splash. "I no like them."

Andy scrubbed a hand over his face. The kid was old enough know to speak clearly. Why he resorted into what Sharon has deemed his 'baby talk' Andy didn't know. It was late, but that wasn't an excuse. It definitely didn't excuse his behavior either.

Ricky leaned over and snatched the toy that Rusty was playing with, causing the boy to cry, again. Andy swept in and took the toy from Ricky handing it back to the baby. When the older boy leaned over, intent on taking it back, Andy caught the boy's wrist and pushed him back.

"This isn't going to happen right now," Andy said sternly. "Do you understand?"

Rusty began to giggle. It was his nervous laugh that normally came out when he knew he was in trouble.

"What happened with Rusty?" Andy asked Emily who was still in the frame, watching her brothers.

"Mom was feeding him and then she wasn't," Emily shrugged. "She left and he started crying. His food throwing started right before you came in."

Andy nodded. Okay. So the baby was only reacting to his mother, who was reacting to Ricky, who was being a brat. Emily was doing the best she could – forced to clean up after her brother's. It wasn't fair to her.

"Okay," Andy clapped his hands. "Bath time is over."

Both boys were dressed and in bed fairly quickly. Ricky decided to evade Andy and streak his way down the hallway. Thankfully Rusty's bed had the bars up so Andy could go get Ricky, dress him and put him down to bed.

"Magic!" Ricky clapped, trying to evade going to bed again.

Gentle, but firm, Andy pushed Ricky back into bed. The boy would fall asleep in seconds, once he was warm and comfortable, sleep would come. But Andy had to get him down a few notches.

"We're going to go from light to dark," Andy said, standing at the door, his hand hovering above the light switch. "Ready?"

Ricky nodded, his dark eyes beaming with excitement.

"And-" Andy said, letting the boy stew in anticipation. "Magic."

The room was dressed in darkness. Ricky let out a small gasp from his bed. Andy couldn't help but smile as he took a step in; making sure the boy was tucked in. He checked on Rusty and the baby was sound asleep. His brother's commotion not a bother.

Ricky let out a laugh and Andy sighed.

"Go to sleep Ricky," Andy told him. The boy let out a sigh and Andy counted from ten backwards.

By 7 Andy was slipping out of the boy's bedroom, going to check on Emily. The girl's room was dressed in darkness as well, the only light coming from the other wall, where her nightlight was plugged in. After the boy's bath, Andy had told Emily to get herself ready too. She did it on her own, had been doing it for sometime, of course never turning down an offer from Sharon. The girl was sleep when he made it to her bed. The soft sighs escaping her lips in tandem with the rise and fall of her chest.

Andy went in search of his wife. He found her where he knew she'd be. On the floor of the bathroom, the furthest room in the house, away from the children. She was half asleep herself. Her head on the ring of the bathtub, her legs stretched out in front of her – she was almost comfortable looking. What had him worried, had him checking her pulse was the bottle of wine that he knew was full that morning. It was a quarter full.

"Sharon," Andy said, shaking her shoulder a little bit. "Sharon."

She moaned and her head lolled. A gasp escaped her lips and she shot her head up. Her green eyes were bright, the light green that he loved to wake up to every morning. The natural look of happiness and ease for just a brief moment before her world set in. Then the gaze darkened and she curled her lips into a grin.

"Hey lover boy," she grinned, her hands reaching for him. "Take me to bed."

"Not going to happen," he denied. Never when she's like this.

Once upon a time he begged her, she accepted – that was years ago. Now, he knew better. He knew that sex wasn't the resolution to their problem. He filled up the toothbrush cup with water and brought it to her lips. She shied away from it with a groan. He took her chin in his fingers and tilted her head back.

"C'mon, Shar – just a little bit," he tried. "C'mon –there you go."

She relented and gave in. Water dripped from the corners of her mouth. She reached for Andy again, she was – he didn't know what she wanted. So he took her by the hands and hauled her up onto her feet. She swayed and he caught her around the waist. If he were lucky she'd start to puke. He was exhausted and the wine leaving her system would help her sleep.

Sharon swayed again and she slapped both hands on the porcelain sink. He turned away as she retched. The sound of the water running had him turning back, his hands in her hair as he pulled it back. She turned when she was finished, her face buried in Andy's chest. His hands went to her shoulders, then around to her back. He held her to him, hugging her and keeping her there. The mumbled words from his wife had him pulling back.

"Why are you so good to me?" she asked, her voice thick and heavy.

"Someone has to be," Andy shrugged. "Helps that I'm head over heels in love with you. That and death sucks."

"Yeah it does," she agreed. Then the light bulb went off in her head. "The kids!"

"In bed, dressed and bathed," Andy said. "We need to get you to bed."

"My own magic man," she murmured as she curled onto her side, a hand of hers coming to rest on his chest.

"Something like that," he said into her hair, before pressing his lips into it.

A magic man he was not. He had no trick up his sleeve, no rabbit in his hat or a friend in a box that could be sawed in half. He was the victim of addiction and in a way Sharon was too. Her need for order, for the rules – the need to have everything in its place or else nothing would work; he felt the same way. The consumption of alcohol was needed to get through the day.

He was going to get her through the pain of her loss. He was going to be the husband he promised her to be. If that was considered to be Magic, he could handle that. He could handle pulling a miracle out of a hat once in a while, or turning a dove into a flower. If it put a smile on her face then he'd do it. If it was for her, he would do anything.

* * *

Thank you so so much for the reviews! I am so happy you guys are liking this so far. Keep them coming!

This was a hard chapter for me to write, because no, Sharon wouldn't just abandon her kids, but no one knows what really happens behind closed doors. This is a little insight into that. And it's Andy being Mr. Dad, which I am really having a fun time writing.


	4. Let Love Begin

It was Spring. The flowers were in bloom, the weather was perfect; everything was perfect for a wedding. Sharon took a look at herself in the mirror. Her dress was simple, a little bit of lace across her top, the rest was silk. She had consulted with her mother; they had spent hours over the course of many days trying to find her perfect dress. She would give it to her daughter one day – Sharon wanted it to be perfect.

It was a chapel that was small – a flower garden in the back with a small arc that many couples loved getting married under. She fell in love with it immediately. Her bouquet was a mixture of roses, baby's breath and a single orchid in the middle of it. A small knock on the door came, and it opened slowly, her father was on the other side – offering his arm. She took it easy enough.

Before they stepped out of the chapel, she fixed her hair. It was a cascade of curls that went down her back. She attached her veil to the top, a small hair comb getting caught in the curls. She grinned at her father as she nodded, ready to start her new life.

The day was warm, her father's arm providing her warmth. At the sound of the wedding march, the small crowd stood, their attention on her. Jack turned and gave her the largest smile. She smiled back and then he disappeared.

The chapel, the garden – it all disappeared and when Sharon opened her eyes she was met with the broad chest of her husband. Andy. Andy was in bed with her and not Jack. Jack was dead.

Sharon took a deep breath and curled an arm around her husband's waist. She woke him, the slow breathing had picked up just a little – the tell tale sign he was awake even if he didn't open his eyes.

"You okay?" Andy asked into the darkness.

"Just remembering," Sharon said, rubbing her hand on his chest.

Sharon curled herself further into him. The summer was coming to an end; she had to get up in a few hours to get Emily and Ricky ready for their first day of school. The alarm was going to go off in a few minutes anyway.

"Sharon stop moving," Andy said when his wife moved her hand to his chest, to his stomach and then back to his chest. Her feet were burying themselves under his legs, her knee resting on his thighs.

"Sorry," she said, stilling altogether.

She rolled out of bed and sat on the edge of the bed. Andy sighed and sat up with her. It wasn't that he wanted her to leave, but she was going to be late in getting the kids up. He was going to ravish her if she kept moving. When it came to her, first thing in the morning, it was a lost battle. She would win every time.

"What were you dreaming about?" Andy questioned, coming around and pressing a kiss to her head.

"Jack," she said honestly. "The day we got married."

Andy remained silent. She had photos; he had seen them. She showed them to him a few weeks before they had gotten married. Their wedding wasn't a large church affair either. It was a simple ceremony with both of their kids, a witness for each of them and that was that. It was easy. It was done. He just wanted her. He didn't want the large pomp and circumstance. He didn't want the fighting he had with his first wife.

"I think I can let him go," she said honestly. "He was smiling at me."

"He was happy."

"So was I," she agreed. "I was so very happy."

Andy took her hands and stood her up. He cupped her cheek and kissed her. He dragged his tongue across her bottom lip, opening her up to him. They had a long conversation after she left the kids to fend for themselves. He had put her to bed and when she woke in the middle of the night, sick, he sat up with her the rest of the night and came up with a plan.

He did what his sponsor did. He poured the alcohol down the drain and threw the bottles in the recycle bin. There was no alcohol in the house and had been that way for weeks. They had argued, fought like cats and dogs, and some nights Andy found himself sleeping on the couch. He didn't mind, especially when one of the kids crawled under the covers with him. Other times he would indulge her and then leave her high and dry – she had to get used to being told no.

It was just last week when he made love to her again. When he felt comfortable enough with it. She understood – he laid down ground rules – and she agreed to them all. He wanted to make love to her now, but time was not on their side. Maybe later tonight when the kids had been put to bed.

"I love you," she said quietly, her hands on his back as he splashed water on his face.

Het met her eyes in the mirror and gave her a smile. He brought his arm back and brushed her hip. She was scared that something might happen to him. Every day that was a possibility for both him and her. She knew that, understood that and she tried to explain it to her daughter but Emily didn't understand. At least she didn't then. Now, with her father being gone, she did.

Flynn finished getting himself dressed, brushed his teeth, got some water on his hair to tamper it down, and went in search of his wife and kids. Rusty was walking around the table, his blanket dragging behind him, reminding Andy of a very small version of Linus from the Peanuts. He shook his head, but swept down and picked up the boy anyway.

He let out a scream and then relaxed at the familiarity. He dropped his head to his shoulder and let out a deep sigh. Sharon must have woken him up while she woke up his brother and sister. Emily was the easier one out of the older kids. Ricky was going to fight his mother for sleep, he did it every morning, but she always did something to get him out of bed.

"Breakfast buddy?" Andy asked Rusty.

The little boy nodded, his blonde hair falling into his eyes. Andy was going to have to convince Sharon to let him take the boy to a barber. Or let him do it himself. This kids hair was unruly. Curly too.

"-Nanas," Rusty said.

"Bananas," Andy nodded. "Got it."

He sat Rusty on the counter, putting out his arm out to make sure the boy didn't try to jump off. He had taken to jumping off the couch as of late, giving Sharon a heart attack the first time he did it. His head nearly missed the living room table and Sharon was on her feet, ready to get him the attention. But when the boy stood up cackling, she looked for frustrated than upset. It was not a laughing matter, but ever since Emily started in on Peter Pan and the boy who could fly, everyone wanted to fly.

Rusty stood up, on the counter, walking in his circle with his blanket and thumb in his mouth. He reached over for the candle that Sharon had and Andy swiftly moved it and set it higher up, where he knew the boy wouldn't go search. Rusty turned to him, his face beginning to screw up the way it did when he was ready to pitch a fit. Tears welled up in his eyes and Andy handed him a piece of cut up banana.

"No," Rusty screamed, his voice shrill.

Then the tantrum started. Rusty dropped to the counter with a good sounding thud; one that normally would send Sharon into a panic. The boy was strong and a drop like that would just surprise him more than anything. He cried and Andy let him. It was when he started to scream that Sharon came out with a half naked Ricky.

"What in the world?" she questioned, handing Ricky to Andy and picking up Rusty.

Then Rusty began to scream. This shrill sounding scream coming from him sounded like the kid was being attacked. He was tired, as was the rest of the house – first day of school usually meant an early wake up call for everyone to ensure that they all got to where they needed to be on time. Rusty leaned out of Sharon's arms, reaching for Andy.

"-addy!" Rusty screamed. "-addy!"

Flynn stopped moving and so did Sharon. The woman's mouth fell open just a little in her initial surprise. He didn't miss the glint of pleasure filling the green, making it clearer instead of the dark that sleep usually brought in. Apparently, according to Rusty, he was Daddy and Sharon had no problem with it.

"Who's Daddy, Rusty?" Sharon questioned, making sure they heard him right.

The boy dropped his head to her shoulder, causing her to bite her lip. He did that when he was tired. Then he would bury his face in her neck. Depending on the level of cranky, Rusty would begin to knee her in the stomach, trying to distance himself from her. As it happened, Rusty did just that, feet flat against her stomach, curling himself out. It made it difficult to hold onto him, but Sharon managed. She always did.

"Cranky baby, hmm?" Sharon hummed.

Andy took the shirt tucked in the crook of Sharon's elbow and finished dressing Ricky in the kitchen. At any moment, he was sure, he would be met by Emily who would be all ready to go, expecting some sort of meal for breakfast. If there was anything that Sharon was adamant about, it was that her children were fed before they left the house. Lunch was always made for them the night before regardless of the hour. It would be in their backpacks when they walked out the door without fail. No one ever asked, everyone just expected it to be done. It was part of Sharon's habits.

Andy slipped the shirt over Ricky's head, getting the boy to slip his hands through the holes and then tucked the shirt into the boy's pants. Although kindergarten was a few hours, the kids were going to a Catholic school and the school was very strict on dress code. For Ricky, Andy forked over a good chunk of change and bought the kid a new uniform. Emily still fit into the outfit from the year before and didn't want a new one.

"Banana?" Andy questioned, trying the other kid who ate the fruit.

Ricky took the offered piece and popped it in his mouth with a grin. "-ank you."

They were trying to get the kid to use manners. Please and Thank you were big ones. Anything else was an added bonus.

A tap on his shoulder had Andy turning around to a red faced Rusty. The boy was reaching out for him and Andy took him easily, putting him on his hip. Ricky curled in ward, his face in Andy's neck and whimpered. Andy gave Sharon a look and she shrugged her shoulder. Rusty was a moody kid, especially when tired, but as he got older his temper got worse. Manageable but annoying.

"-addy," the boy whimpered into Andy's neck.

Andy gave Sharon a look and nodded. It was okay. He would make it okay that her son was starting to call him Daddy. Rusty called her Mommy and Emily said Dad every so often when referring to Jack. So did Ricky.

Sharon came to stand between Andy and Ricky, who was enjoying the banana that Andy had cut up for Rusty. She smoothed the boy's hair down, fixed the collar on his shirt and pulled out a pair of socks from her pocket. She was slipping them on when Ricky gave her a questionable look.

"Andy Daddy?" Ricky tilted his head.

Sharon looked over her shoulder and gave her husband a smile. It was going to spread like wildfire with her kids. Once one said something, the other said the same thing. Close age did that.

Sharon neither confirmed nor denied it, but leaned forward and kissed her son on his forehead. She helped him down and pointed to his shoes. Happy with his bananas fingers, Ricky went in search of his shoes.

An arm wrapped around his waist and Sharon looked up at him with a smile. It was just the three of them wrapped up in an intimate moment.

"Daddy?" Sharon questioned Rusty. "Is this Daddy?"

Rusty said nothing but smiled. He buried his face into Andy's neck. Sharon ran a finger along the bottom of the boy's foot, causing him to erupt in laughter. It caused Sharon to smile and for her to tilt her head back and give a look to her husband.

Andy took it upon himself to drop a kiss to her lips. If Rusty was going to start calling him Dad, then he was going to have to get that in writing. Making it legal. Ricky and Emily would be his if something happened to Sharon. It was made happen when they got married.

"Did you think we'd have ended up here?" Sharon questioned, her fingers brushing his lower back.

"With our past love life?" Andy questioned, a light laugh. "Not even close."

Sharon smiled, her lips in a thin, happy smile. She was happy. He made her happy. He was sure of it.

"You fixed me," she said, her voice taking a slight tone of honesty. "You fixed my inoperative life."

He dropped another kiss to her lips. If only she knew that she fixed him. She brought him out of the darkness and gave him a second chance at life. He gave him a second chance to love her again. In a sense, she was letting a new love begin. This time her family was older, more perceptible and yet, here he was. He had invested himself into their daily life and was accepted.

"You fixed me," he stated. She smiled and blushed.

"Ricky stop!" Emily yelled as she stepped into the room.

Ricky was chasing after her, his hands splayed out in front of him. If Andy had to guess, he was trying to dirty Emily with his banana hands. Emily had her backpack on her back, her hair pulled up into a bun that she had perfected over the summer and was giving her mother a look.

"Why is Ricky calling Andy Dad?" Emily asked.

Sharon smirked and gave her husband a knowing look. Out of the three children, they knew that Emily was going to have a hard time. Right after Jack died, Emily refused to do anything, including Dance. She was moody, snapped at Sharon a few times, and slammed a door here and there.

"Because Rusty has started to," Sharon explained honestly.

"Oh," Emily blinked. She shrugged her shoulder. "I guess."

The rest of the morning went as most of their mornings went. The children were given a bowl of cereal, more bananas were cut up, and each got orange juice. The matter on Rusty's recent name-calling had been dropped. No one mentioned it again, including Rusty.

It was an October morning when Andrew Flynn promised Sharon that he was going to love her every day. He brought her to tears when he told her that she brought him out of the darkness, forced him to breath, brought back the need for life to be lived to the fullest. He promise to love her every day and that their wedding was just the beginning.

Andy caught her wrist when the kids bounced ahead of her, Rusty included, chasing after his siblings. He kissed her, drawing her to him as he deepened the kiss.

"I love you," he said, muttering the feeling that filled him up just then.

She smiled and rolled her eyes. She kissed him, softer, and went after her kids. He locked the door behind them, his badge and gun attached to his hip.

Andy was met with laughter when he came to the elevator where his wife was with the kids. She had Rusty on her hip, Ricky was busy bothering Emily who was trying to fend him off. She wouldn't retaliate, not yet; come evening all bets were off and both adults knew it. One day, maybe, the kid would learn.

This life of theirs was nothing remotely close to normal. It was ever changing. Rusty calling him Daddy was just another piece of wood to their base of the life him and Sharon began a year and a half prior. Sharon helped Andy come to the surface of his addiction and Andy got Sharon to come up for air during her time of mourning. It's started when they allowed themselves to let go, beginning with allowing love to infiltrate their lives and their decisions. A day, a morning, a night, had yet to go by where he regretted that decision. He married the woman, he married the family, and this new love affair of theirs began that morning in October and he'd be damned if he let anyone take that away from him.

* * *

Thank you so much for the reviews. A little more sappy than the last chapter. I figured they needed a little happiness in the wake of death. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Let me know in your review :)


	5. Home

Nicole was born on the first Tuesday in June. The day was overcast, rainy, and around lunch times the clouds faded away and the sun shined through. Nothing prepared Andrew Flynn for the overwhelming feeling of utter joy that filled him when the nurse handed him the screaming baby. She calmed down immediately once she was placed in his arms, the world a different place for him, a new life beginning with her.

Emily was born the first Tuesday of April – it was the middle of the night. She had been born just on the other side of the time change. It was conflicting, the hour in which Emily had been born. The clock on the wall said one thing, her file said another – the doctor made the final decision. Emily Catherine Raydor was born on a Tuesday to Jack and Sharon Raydor.

Andy swept his eyes over her birth certificate. Hers and Ricky's – Ricky was born in October. He was a week early; Emily was a few days late. Now it was the complete opposite. Ricky stayed in bed as long as humanly possible and Emily wanted out as soon as she woke. It used to drive him crazy, the little tiny feet crawling into bed first thing in the morning, but now, now that she was older it was a rarity.

Files were strewn haphazardly on the table before him. Adoption papers had to be signed for all three of her children. For each child he had to fill out the same stack of paperwork, a checklist was on the top sheet. He had to fill out a request, sign an agreement for, something for the judge and then arrange a meeting with a social worker. He knew Sharon had gone through this much for Rusty, she had the same files, he remembered, but with her it was a different circumstance.

His adopting the kids wasn't an emergency. They had parents, albeit one of them was gone, but still, the kids had parents. Rusty had Sharon. They were all taken care of. Andy had time to do this. In fact he had been sitting on this for a few weeks now. It was a conversation he had with Sharon at length about adopting the kids. He had _his_ kids to think about. He had his ex-wife to think about too, despite not wanting to, he had to. It was the courteous thing to do.

Andy adopting the kids wasn't something he felt like he was obligated to do. He was their stepfather, always would be, but those kids needed a dad. They needed a family that wasn't broken. If he could provide them an ounce of normalcy by adopting them, then he was going to try.

"Andy?" He heard, a small voice from over his shoulder.

He turned in his chair, his pen hovering over the paper. He looked over the child's head and saw the hour. It was a quarter to two in the morning, his wife was in bed, his soon to be kids should have been and yet here was Emily staring at him with sleepy eyes.

Andy dropped his pen and held an arm out. He lifted her easy enough around the waist – the dancing ballerina was lightweight. He moved enough to settle her on his lap. He watched as her eyes danced over the paperwork in front of him, her name on the front page in the block letters of Andy's handwriting.

It was another conversation that Andy had. He had picked her up from school, took her out to get ice cream and essentially asked her permission to adopt her.

"It's because Rusty called you Daddy, isn't it?" She asked.

"That's part of the reason," Andy agreed. "Not the whole reason though."

Jack Raydor wasn't the father of the year and neither was Andy. The difference between the two men was that Jack was Emily's hero. Jack was still her father, no matter what he had did. Sharon had done a good job at hiding her children from her ex-husband's addiction with alcohol and gambling. She didn't let them see the trouble they were in financially when she decided to distance herself. It wasn't until recently that she finally brought herself to clearing out the savings account and putting it into a joint account with Andy.

It was a level of trust, he figured. Trusting that Andy wouldn't leave her a letter, apologizing for leaving. Trusting that Andy wasn't going to ask her for money to go blow it at a bar or a casino forty-five minutes away. Sharon trusted him with her children and that was important to him. Her money was what paid for the things her a child needed, which was a matter she handled on her own. Sure, when they started dating again, he offered to pay for things, but she was the one who bought them their clothes, their food, their necessities. He just was Andy, the guy who bought stuff every so often.

The first time she had no qualms about Andy forking out some money was when he bought the kids uniforms. Everything else she made a comment about, insisting she'd pay him back. They were married for crying out loud. His money was her money. He didn't care how she spent it, as long as she spent it and was happy about doing so.

"Your mother won't be happy if she finds you out of bed, miss," Andy said, brushing his hand over her hair as if she were younger.

"I know," Emily sighed, dropping her head to his shoulder.

She probably had gotten up to go to the bathroom and saw the light on. He was surprised Ricky hadn't come out to join him, but then again, the boy slept through the night like a rock and was the first one in the bathroom most days.

"Do you want some water?"

"No thank you," she yawned, the warm puff of hair warming the side of his throat. "Are you working?"

"Not exactly," he said honestly. "Filling out paperwork for the adoption."

"Oh," she said quietly.

She reached out and her fingers danced lightly over her name. Her eyes went to what would be her new name legally. Emily Catherine Flynn – she would no longer be a Raydor. She kind of liked being a Raydor; it made her sound regal. But Flynn worked too she supposed.

"Am I going to have to call you Dad?" Emily questioned.

"Only if you want to," he said honestly. "Look Em."

He had her sitting up, leaning against the table so he could look at her fully. He would have to tell Sharon that Emily had gotten up in the middle of the night. He would have to tell her about this conversation. His wife would know something had happened, especially if he crawled back into bed later than promised.

"Your Dad is your Dad," Andy said, drawing his thumb over her cheek. "I'm not going to try and replace him, okay? Your mom is still your mom and I'm still going to be Andy. This new name is for the courts. This is in the case something happens to you, or to your mom, you'll have someone to go to."

She was silent. She found interest in a crease on Andy's t-shirt. Her fingers had gone to it.

"You can call me Dad if you want," Andy said honestly. "You can call me Andy, or Flynn, or Bozo for all I care."

It elicited a giggle from her. He smiled. She was coming around.

"I'm not going to call you Bozo," she laughed. "Mom might not like that."

"I don't think she would, no," Andy agreed. "But don't ask her what the boys at work call her."

"Is it bad?"

"It's not kind," he declared.

Andy stood, with the kid still in his hold. He sat her down on her feet and pushed her towards the hallway. She had to go back to bed or else she was going to be an unhappy girl in the morning. He didn't want to deal with it and he knew his wife didn't and wouldn't either.

She stopped in front of her bedroom door, the girl's private sanctuary where boys were not allowed. Not even grown up boys. Her hand was on the knob; she was regarding Andy with solemn eyes. She was thinking of what to say next. He had seen that look in Sharon's eyes a multitude of times. Emily really was a miniature version of her mother.

"Andy?" she questioned. "You love Mom, right?"

"Of course I do," he said, stepping into the hallway, slowly moving towards her.

"And you love Ricky and Rusty?" He nodded. "And me?"

"Especially you," he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. He pulled back and gave her a wink and a smile. "Don't tell your mother, but you're definitely my favorite Raydor woman."

"I'm the only one," she laughed and then stopped, remembering the files on the table. "Until I won't be."

"Then you'll be my favorite Flynn," he winked. "Doesn't matter who you are Em, I'll like you for who you are., no matter if you change _your_ name to Bozo."

She laughed and shook her head before escaping into the room.

It was a battle he was prepared for. He knew winning Emily over was going to be difficult. Telling Ricky was the easy part. Sharon had asked Ricky what he thought about Andy being Ricky's Dad and the boy exclaimed, loud enough for the room of people to give them unhappy looks - "COOL!"

Andy had crawled into bed, his wife asleep in her spot, lightly snoring. She never believed him when he told her, and he had half a mind to record her just to prove a point, but the couch would become his new resting place he figured.

When he slipped under the covers, he listened as his wife took in a sharp breath. He woke her up. He winced and rolled over, a hand coming across her hip, to rest against her stomach in apology. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and took a deep breath, her scent filling his nose.

She hummed at the warmth at her back, her hand coming up to rest over his. "I heard voices?"

"Emily got up," he said. "I was finishing up the papers."

"Are you done?"

All he had to do was fill out a few more lines of things, sign the bottoms of each page and done he would be.

"Give 'em to the Judge tomorrow," he said. "Have this all done by the end of the week."

"Good." She said, her voice full of sleep. "Good."

As luck would have it, they were done with it by the end of the next day. The judge signed the papers, informing both parents that the social worker that had been assigned to Sharon's previous case signed off on this one. They were just waiting on the packets for the children to make it official.

The rest of the day had been taken off, an order from the Chief, and he took it. It was only ten in the morning. He had taken Sharon's hand, pulled her through the hallways of City Hall and kissed her in hallway, smack dab in the middle of the building. Sharon had pushed him away, but he went back to her. Burying his hands in her hair and kissing her with all he had. They had a _family_.

They both had a smile that could not be contained. It was plastered on her face when they made their way from City Hall to Work, picking up Rusty. She had it when she pulled up to the school. She had signed the kids out from school, only to have Andy meeting them outside of the church. In his hands were two small gifts; not that he could buy his kid's affection, but it was a gift for them, a way of welcoming them to the family. It was absurd and made no sense whatsoever, but Ricky had been going on about toy cars and Emily had grown fascinated with roses and orchids as of late, so he bought his kids a couple of gifts.

"For Ricky," he said, greeting the boy who was on his mother's hip.

One of these days she wasn't going to be able to lift him. She still had Rusty to hold and he would remind her of that. Emily stood at Sharon's side, her hand in her mother's as she watched the exchange between the two adults and Ricky. The boy had taken the car with excitement and was put down on his feet, scrambling into the car and into his car seat.

Flynn lowered himself down to her eye level and presented her with a rose. A light pink, almost white rose just for her.

"This is for my favorite Flynn girl," he smiled. Her eyes grew in surprise.

She took the flower delicately and brought it to her nose, inhaling the sweet smell that only roses brought.

"Times are changin', Em," Andy said standing up. "Some kids got two Dads, some kids got two mom's. Maybe you can be one of the one's with two Dads?"

She shrugged her shoulder and smiled around the flower, her eyes full of wit. "Thank you for the flower, Andy."

"Not a problem, kid," Andy said, opening the door for Emily. "Ma'am."

He over exaggerated the bow, nearly hitting his head on the door. Emily laughed, gasping as he stumbled back and tossed himself over the car. Over the top, he winked at his wife, a playful smile on his lips. He was just having a good time with Emily, warming her up to him. He was happy. He was oh so very happy.

They had taken the kids to Santa Monica Pier for the day. Sharon had chased Rusty and Ricky through the sand, went swimming with Emily while Andy and the boys made sand castles, which Emily broke down. It was around four when Rusty started to get tired, Ricky too – both boys were used to taking naps after school and had missed them.

Their first family dinner had been a quiet affair. They ordered Pizza, much to the children's happiness and to appease the mother, salad was ordered as well. The kids had gone to bed early, giving Andy an opportunity to wash the beach off of him with the accompaniment of his wife. He made love to her in the shower. He made love to her in the bathroom and once again in their bed.

Sharon had made her way out of their bedroom and into the kitchen to finish cleaning up dinner. He had followed. He helped her clean, stealing kisses here and there. She was just as happy as he was, if not more. She wanted to give her children the most out of life. He made her so happy that it was hard to contain at times. He wasn't the father of her children, no one would be able to bed that except for Jack, and the man, god rest his soul, was gone. He was going to be their father figure, their Dad, the one to teach Rusty and Ricky how to play baseball, how to ride bikes, to deal with the boys who wanted to date Emily when she got older. Andy was the man of their family and would remain that way.

Together they rested on the floor of their living room, the children's bedrooms down the hall and around the corner from where they were. Sharon was wrapped up in the blanket, a pillow under her head as her fingers danced up and down her husband's naked back. He was face first in his own pillow, his body exhausted from the rounds of intimacy.

She kneaded her fingers into his shoulder, listening to him groan. She smiled and lowered herself enough to bracket his waist with her legs. She sat up on her knees, lengthening herself against his back. Her voice was hot in his ear. It had him turning around and catching her around the waist, surprising her. She erupted into laughter. She felt young, free and everlasting.

The sound of her joy was what filled his ears now. He sat in a dark room, the bedroom of a witness. His eyes were closed as he tried to remember his children. All of them. He could make out Nicole's face, her smile as she told him she loved him. His son's gummy grin when he spoke his first word. Emily's sleeping form as he carried her from the couch one night to her bed. Ricky and Rusty fighting over a toy, they both had, in the back seat. Most of all, he remembered his wife, the smile he left her with that morning.

A call had come into the dispatch – a woman was being taken from her home under protest. A neighbor called it in, complaints of screaming, only to witness the abduction from her bedroom window. Andy had gotten out of bed, the next member from Major Crimes on call, and went.

Home was where he wanted to be. His home with his wife and kids. It was coming up on dinnertime; the kids would be done with homework if he calculated his time correctly. Rusty would be in his booster seat, Ricky would be giving Sharon trouble no doubt and Emily would be reading one of her books. It was their new normal.

What wasn't normal was the metal of his chair was cool to the touch. Thin red marks wrapped Andy's wrist like a watch. His mind was beginning to shut down, sleep taking over. Sounds of police came hours ago, around lunchtime. It had been hours since he was met with a body that was not dead, yet a decoy for a figure within the walls of the house. It wasn't his home, but someone else's. For an unquestionable amount of time, he thought of home with every passing breath. There would be no explanation as to how, for hours, on and off, minutes at a time, he found himself staring down a barrel of a gun.

* * *

Thank you so much to the new followers and the new reviews. I really truly appreciate it. This story is going to be on for 12 more chapters. :) Keep your reviews coming!


	6. Now

"This is Sharon Raydor, I'm sorry I missed your call. Please leave your –" the beep sounded and the man slammed the phone down.

Andy Flynn woke up with a gasp. His head pounded behind his eyes, his pulse raced in his ears. His body was weak. The need for food was long gone; he was getting water here and there, sporadically as the man before him paced. For whatever reason he needed Andy alive and he was doing his best to keep him that way. The light though was fading fast. The man's eyes were growing darker, the life behind them disappearing with every minute that passed.

Flynn had been held for sixteen hours, forty-nine minutes, and thirteen-fourteen-fif-seconds. Provenza took note of it when the Chief came around demanding answers. They had to stick Raydor, the Captain, Mrs. Flynn in the back of a squad car and force her to calm down. She had let out a blood-curdling scream about eight hours ago when they all heard a gunshot go off. Someone had gone to get her kids, which were with her now, in the back of the squad car.

The media trucks had come about ten hours ago when they got wind that a cop was being held hostage. It made it on the evening news. Now it was going to be daybreak, another news cycle for a new day, and they were nowhere close to getting Flynn out. A psychologist had sat down with Sharon, explaining to her that they were going to do everything to get her husband out alive. Whether or not the man knew that Sharon was a cop as well was secondary to the good doctor's job. He had to prepare the wife for tragedy.

Provenza knew that the woman wouldn't be able to handle any more tragedy. The children couldn't handle any more tragedy. Flynn had come into work that morning, yesterday morning, with a large smile on his face. Flynn telling Provenza about the adoption, made Provenza realize that he had never seen Flynn that happy. Ever.

The older man went to the squad car where Sharon was asleep in the back seat with her kids. Rusty was on her chest, the older ones were using her thighs as pillows. Her coat from the day before was thrown over Emily's shoulders. Ricky had his arms through the patrol officers' jacket, using it as a blanket of sorts. Sharon had both hand's splayed on the baby's back, the baby's own blanket covering both mother and child.

Provenza lightly rapped his knuckles against the window. A thing about cops, no matter how asleep they looked, were never asleep. Sharon's eyes slid open, her hand positions changed, holding the baby tighter to her chest. She blinked a few times and Provenza came into focus. She reached over, stretched really, to unlock the car door and the man on the other side opened the door himself.

"Anything?" She questioned.

"Not yet," he told her honestly. "Listen, Captain, why don't you go home? Get the kids in their beds, a real meal, and a shower or two."

Sharon rubbed her hand over her face and shook her head. "I'm not leaving, Lieutenant."

"Ma'am with all due respect, this is no place for a child," he said frustrated.

Sharon opened her mouth to respond but the shrill sound of a phone coming from inside the car sounded. It was inside her pocket, the vibration at her hip had her arching her back, successfully waking up all three of her children as she dug it out from between the seats. Her eyes widened at the name.

 _Andy_.

Immediately she handed it to Provenza who was rushing to the command post with it. The battery was close to being dead. He snapped his fingers at the commander and pointed to the phone. HE wasn't going to answering it unless he had the go-ahead.

Sharon had set Rusty down on the back of the seat, the boy curling up where she had once been. Ricky and Emily had woken up enough to reposition themselves against the car doors, using the frames as pillows. She pressed a kiss to each of their heads, locked the door to the car and went to Provenza.

"Watch that car," she ordered the nearest officer.

"Yes ma'am." The officer nodded and went, standing at the car door with his hands clasped in front of him. It was enough for now.

Sharon ducked her head under the canopy flap and stepped into the white dome that was their command post for the situation. It kept the eyes of the press from getting irrelevant facts of their investigation and going on television reporting about it. The Commander gave Sharon a look, then a raised, questionable eyebrow at Provenza. He distinctly remembered her being sent home, to not return; yet here she was.

"You want to deal with her?" Provenza questioned. "Now you can either do your job or deal with her when this is done because you neglected to do your job. Your choice."

The tech team had already been plugging the phone into the recorder. The phone had stopped ringing, but started up again, making everyone jump just a little. The Commander gave Sharon a look and when she nodded, her hit the button.

"Yes?" The Commander questioned. "Who is this?"

"It doesn't matter who this is," the man said. "I've got a list of demands."

A classic hostage situation, Provenza mused to himself. It took this guy long enough to start demanding things. An officer nearby had taken a pad of paper, slipping a pen out of his breast pocket. He nodded at the commander, indicating he was ready to start jotting down the list.

"Okay?" The Commander said. "What can I get you?"

"A Car," the man said. "No Vin number, just a piece of metal with wheels."

The longer they kept him on, the more information they could get from him. There was silence in the background. There was nothing to give them an indication of life. It made Sharon nervous. It made Provenza nervous.

"Next," the man on the phone said. "You want to talk to this guy? You're going to come out in the open where I can see you. No hiding behind your wall."

Sharon nodded. They could give them that. That was an easy give. She snapped her fingers at the cop who was standing next to the pile of bulletproof vests and silently ordered him to give her one. Right then and there, as the officer handed it over, she began unbuttoning her blouse. She had kids to think about. She was going to get out of this alive if her husband – she wasn't going to think about that scenario, despite the fact that everyone else was.

The commander was giving her a wide-eyed look. The woman was going to talk to her husband. Provenza had just taken a step back, looking unperturbed that this woman just undressed in front of them. They were men and most of them had wives. This shouldn't have been a shock to them.

"I'm going to give the phone to one of our investigating Captains," the Commander said. "She'll be the one out of the tent. Is that okay with you?"

"Just get her out here," the man ordered.

The Commander handed her the phone and she nodded. She took a deep breath. It was going to be Andy on the other line, her husband, not the cop. The man was being held against his will and no matter how they took his captor out, either in a body bag or cuffs, Andy was still being held. He wasn't going to come back from that. Not easily anyway. He didn't have the luxury of going back to his old habits.

Sharon unplugged the phone and stepped outside of the booth. The vest was strapped to her chest. A gun had been attached to her hip by Provenza – the weight of it a welcomed addition to the vest. With all the jostling of getting the vest put on, she nearly missed it.

"This is Captain Raydor," she announced, her voice thick, low, and full of danger to the unsuspecting man.

She heard a cough on the other side, followed by a grunt, followed by heavy breathing. She held her breath – she didn't want this to be a rouse. If it was, she would order the door to get knocked down herself, and she'd put a bullet between the guys head herself if the man did anything to Flynn.

"Yeah," his voice was strained. He coughed again. "Hello?"

That's when she broke. The cop persona she had put on with the man failing her now.

"Hey good looking," she said, her voice as warm as she could make it. "How you feeling?"

There was a pause. She knew he couldn't say much, not with the creep hovering above him no doubt. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the flap of the tent open up. The other side had officers in black coming out with their rifles. The commander was signaling them to go around the house. He gave her a hand signal indicating that they had eyes in the house. She nodded.

"Andy," she sighed. "Remember last summer at the beach?"

He hummed. He would remember that. He made fun of her for the ridiculously large hat.

"I gave you something, do you remember?"

She was met with silence on the other line. The men were coming around the house their guns were raised. The Commander was circling his finger indicating they should wrap up their conversation; Sharon turned his back on him.

"I have you a Saint Michael pendant, do you remember?" She questioned. "It was the shape of our badge."

He grunted. "Yeah, yeah. I remember."

If he remembered he wore it around his neck. Other times he kept it in his pocket or in his car. Saint Michael - her father had given her a similar pendant when she started the academy.

"He's the patron saint of cops," she said. "The protector and leader of the army of god against the forces of Evil."

"I know," he managed to get out.

Sharon walked down the lawn, a ruffle of curtain, setting her on edge. She was being watched.

"I need you to come back to me Andrew," she ordered, his full name rolling of her tongue as if she called him that every day. "Your children need their father. Your kids need their dad."

She heard a knock on the door – a faint yell – she looked at Provenza who was coming out of the tent. The cop who was watching her kids was going around the front of the car, getting into it and driving it to safety. Provenza ordered it.

"I'm getting them out of range," Provenza said. "We don't need you sitting in surgery while one of your kids is getting stitched up because of a stray bullet."

"What are they doing?" Sharon asked when the phone line went dead. "What's going on?"

The team was going in through the backdoor. Provenza was tapping his ear, an earpiece was in it, voices telling him who was where. The Commander was still in the tent, no doubt reporting in what was going on.

Their goal was to get Flynn out alive. They had to get him to the hospital and have him checked over. The next thing on their list was to get Sharon to the hospital since she wasn't going to stay put and give her statement. As soon as she stepped onto that lawn, under that flap she became an officer and not the wife. She wasn't going to be deterred.

"Everybody drop!" She heard.

Sharon had dropped do the floor, her hands out in front of her as she lowered herself to the ground. Just as quickly she covered her head, both hands over her head. She shut her eyes tight and felt the ground shake. It was reminiscent of an earthquake. When she felt same, nothing falling around her, she looked up. The house was pillowing smoke from the windows. The glass of the window she was previously standing in front of was shattered.

Scrambling, Sharon got to her feet, her body surging towards the front door. She was going to make – a hand on her wrist was yanking her back. She spun to see Provenza looking at her with wide eyes.

"You step through that door, you're dead," he said matter of factly. "The whack job has it trapped."

Sharon looked back to the house, the smoke starting to thin. She had to get in to Andy. She wanted him safe.

Epinephrine is a chemical make up of Carbon, Hydrogen, and Nitrogen Oxide. Once in a while it orders the body into a fight or flight response. The chemical forces an increase of blood flow to the muscles, raises blood sugar and is created by certain neurons in the brain. It only lasts a few minutes, but long enough to create an abnormal heart rate. In English, non-medical terms, things that made sense to Sharon, Provenza, and the rest of the officers it was called Adrenaline.

Adrenaline was the cause of her run across the lawn. It would be the cause of her gun being pulled off her hip and raised to the level of her eyes. She was fighting for her husband, her children's Dad, the father of two other children who were miles away. Her job held no importance at the moment. If she was fired when all this was over, so be it. Fight or Flight. She was trained to fight for what was right, for the lives of civilians. Fleeing was not part of the equation.

So she stood in the middle of the street with her gun raised. The suspect who had held Andy was trying to get away on foot.

"Stop Flanagan!" She hollered. The man continued to move. Continued to run. "Now!"

She took a deep breath, counted out her heartbeats and in between one she took the shot. The intent was to injure him, to prevent him from running. She shot him in the leg. It would be a flash would that would heal within six weeks. Of that she was sure.

Sharon dropped the gun, letting it fall to the ground. It was protocol for her to turn her weapon in. She was sure it wasn't hers, but Provenza's and Provenza would be investigated as well. He had given away his weapon, which was against the rules. If she was brought back, she was sure the file would end up on her desk and she would have to sign off on either a suspension or signing off to clear him.

"Sharon," she heard, someone calling her name.

Provenza was pointing to the house. She went to him at a job. They were bringing Andy out of the house, on the back of the gurney. Sharon saddled up next to him, taking the canola and setting it where it needed to go. Andy groaned and swatted her hand.

"Hey," she simpered. "You have to wear it. They need to give you some air."

Andy groaned and let his head fall. An ambulance was pulling up, the doors sliding open just as she entangled her fingers in his.

The EMT's came to a stop, Provenza waved them off. He was going to let them have a second. She needed it and Flynn damn well deserved it.

"You look like hell," Andy swallowed.

Sharon let out a forced laugh. She tilted her head at him and leaned over and pressed her lips to his forehead and then to his lips. She cradled his head in her hands.

"So do you," she quipped back, with as much playfulness as she could muster.

Andy's eyes, albeit still closed, crinkled in the corners. His lips pressed into a thin line and turned up in the corners. On a shallow breath he opened his eyes, his dark meeting her light. Provenza was standing next to her. Andy looked to him and opened his mouth, licking his lips.

"Now she tells me," he bit out, groaning at the pain his body was in.

Another forced laugh escaped her but it was enough. He would be okay. He would get through this. They would get through this together, as a family.

She waited to move until the doors of the bus were closed, the hospital information had been given out and the ambulance had disappeared around the corner.

"Your kids are with Officer McGovern," Provenza said. "He'll be driving you to the hospital. I'll be going to your home and retrieving your night bags if you have them packed because God know I do not want to be going through his underwear drawer."

Sharon smiled and dug her keys out of her pocket, handing him they ring by the key that would grant him access into her home.

"Lieutenant," she called out as she watched Provenza walk away. " _Louie._ Thank you."

Provenza nodded and walked away whistling a tune.

The black and white patrol car pulled up next to her and she slipped into the backseat. Emily was wide-awake with Rusty asleep against her. Ricky was against her too. Her oldest boy had his head lolled to the side, his mouth open. Sharon took him under his arms and held her to his chest as she slid in.

"What happened?" Emily questioned when the car began to move. "Where are we going?"

"Andy was hurt," Sharon said.

"Is he okay?" Emily asked adamantly. "Mom is Andy okay?!"

"He will be," Sharon nodded, tilting her head back, staring up at the upholstery on the roof of the patrol car. The plastic seats were incredibly uncomfortable she added mutely. "He will be."

For now, she amended. Andy would be okay, for now.

* * *

Thank you so so much for all the wonderful reviews! I can't get over the amount of love this story is receiving. Keep it coming!

Hopefully this one eases everyone's hearts a little. Nothing bad will come to Andy, Sharon or the kids. I promise :)

Thanks again for reading, folks.


	7. Never, Neverland (Fly Away)

Sharon Raydor needed to have faith. Faith that whatever the man she shot did to her husband wasn't life threatening. Faith that no matter what happens everything will turn out okay. Faith, in god, faith in humanity, faith in the doctors had to remain or else the fight would be worthless. No matter the amount, she had to maintain it.

It remained in limbo, the faith of God, the faith in Doctors the less they spoke to her about Andy. The more the doctor's and nurses walked around her, ignored her pleas for information, she lost faith. She was convinced that something bad had happened. Her heart stopped when she walked into the hospital and the halls were empty. No signs of nurses, no signs of doctor's – she had debated on calling out, but one by one she watched as they left a room and she couldn't help but feel that was for him.

Sharon grinned at her daughter who was determined on reading out loud from the latest book she was fascinated with. Sharon had pressed a kiss to Emily's hair, smoothed it down, and leaned back, listening to the girl's voice.

Faith was nearly thrown out the window when a doctor, young, charming, good looking came in and delivered the news. They lost Flynn. The ground went spinning; her children's laughter sounded warped, the voice of the doctor was far despite the closeness in which he was standing. The hand to her elbow, righting her, snapped her out of the panic. Looking up at the doctor, her eyes wet, Sharon right then and there lost Faith. Faith in everything.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Flynn," the doctor said, her wedded name on his lips sounding like a farce. "We lost your husband when he first got here. He wasn't breathing but we managed to get him back. He had some internal bleeding due to a ruptured vessel in his side. It's my understanding that he fell and that was the result of his broken rib."

Sharon did nothing as the sound came back. The reality of the situation. Her husband died, but revived and now was okay, in a bed, recovering from being kidnapped at gunpoint. She shook her head, and then nodded, realizing her internal thoughts did not align with the doctor's line of events.

"We cut him open, a rib down," the doctor said, indicating the space he was talking about on himself. "We drained the blood and managed to stop the bleeding. He should be okay for a few days, out of the woods in a week or so. The broken bone is going to be his greatest opponent."

Sharon nodded. Blood loss minimal. Bleeding was stopped. Broken rib was the main problem.

"Thank you," she managed out. "Can I – can we see him?"

"The children, particularly the young ones aren't allowed past the doors," the doctor said. "But you can take your daughter and I can have a nurse sit with the boys?"

Sharon shook her head. She would wait for Provenza who was coming in the door just as the doctor offered the help of a nurse. She had to fill her husband's partner in. She watched as the doctor repeated himself in regards to Andy's arrival, procedure and health care since he's arrived. Provenza paled when the doctor told the man they lost Andy and progressively redder as the man explained that they got him back and what had happened.

"You didn't tell her all that did you?" Provenza questioned, throwing his thumb over his shoulder in Sharon's direction.

"I did," the man nodded, a small smile on his lips.

Provenza groaned and shot a look to Sharon, then the kids. He turned on the man, clapping the good doctor on the back with a little more emphasis than necessary.

"Here's the thing doc," Provenza said. "Not that it matters anymore, but the woman lost her first husband a few months ago. Her husband, the one in that bed of yours, just became those kid's father the day before yesterday. Not that you knew that of course, but my god man, show a little finesse when you tell people that their loved one died and then came back to life."

After Provenza dismissed the doctor, a nurse came in a few minutes later, offering to take Sharon to her husband. Provenza would stay with the kids and she was free to stay with Andy however long she felt like.

They said he would look worse than he was. She had to trust that they were right. She had to trust that the man who looked pale, sickly, and beaten and bruised from head to toe would be all right. His wrists were wrapped in gauze, the thin metal that the suspect cuffed him in, had cut his skin. Any more deeper, Andy would have nicked the vein and they wouldn't have had a chance.

Andy remained in the ICU for a few days. The doctors wanted to ensure that the incision site was healing properly and that there was no sign of infection. Then they moved him up into a private room where he would stay until the doctor's were content with the way his rib was healing and that he would not have any setbacks if he were to return home.

He wouldn't be able to return to work for another few weeks as it were anyway. He had to undergo a couple of sessions of physical training, he had to re-qualify his weapon, he had to go to the department psychologist, all of which would put him back on active duty. Sharon was in the boat, for the most part. She had to sit down with a psychologist as well – she fired a weapon and was on temporary suspension until she was cleared and deemed fit to return to the field. It was her rule – she was going to abide by it.

"Ricky, no," Sharon whispered.

They had picked up Andy from the hospital three days before – the man was still tired, but nearly healed. The rib was giving him problems, but nothing he couldn't handle. The incision site was pulling, healing, which was a good sign.

When Sharon had picked up Emily, the boys were in the back seat, both becoming fussy. Ricky wanted food, Rusty wanted his toys and Emily wanted to talk about her day at school. A cacophony of sounds from the back seat lasted until she pulled up into the driveway of their home and it all stopped. Emily was the first one out, Ricky had gotten himself out of his seat, and Rusty cried until Sharon lifted him out and settled him on her hip.

It shouldn't have surprised her that the kids had gone in search for Andy. Emily and Ricky were on the bed; Emily nestled into his side, and her head on his shoulder. Ricky was asleep, curled into a ball near the foot. Andy was looking up at her, grinning when she came into the room.

"Did they wake you?" Sharon questioned.

Andy shrugged. They did but he needed to get up anyway. He was uncomfortable in the position. Having Emily next to him, him curled on the other side, provided some relief, not much, but some. Enough for him to fall back asleep if he wanted.

Andy patted the space next to Emily. Sharon tilted her head and smiled. Rusty was still awake, his warm breath traveling around her neck. His small fingers were wrapped up in the metal of her necklace. She shifted the boy, turning him around and setting him on the bed. She slipped off her own shoes, before taking Rusty's off and tossing them somewhere in the room, where they landed with a thud.

"How are you feeling?" she questioned, reaching over her daughter who was curled in between them.

"Little sore," he admitted. "Nothing too bad."

Sharon nodded and smiled. The weight of the last few days was finally starting to affect her. It was the first time, in a long time that the five of them were all in one space. Andy was home, the kids were home, Sharon was home – it was a Friday and they had the entire weekend to themselves.

It was an hour or so when she heard the giggles of her son. The body against her chest was shaking, vibrating – Rusty and Ricky were participating in something. She ran her hand over her face, the hour of sleep was a godsend. It was needed.

"Ricky," she sighed, looking up over Rusty's knee.

Sharon blinked – Rusty was sitting on her stomach, with his legs curled under him – the weight of him finally becoming noticeable.

"Rusty," she grunted, trying to move the boy off of her. "Get off of me, honey."

She felt the boy curling off of her and when he gasped and laughed, Emily moaned next to her. These boys were waking everyone up. Sharon looked at her daughter and sure enough the girl was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with the palm of her hand. She buried her nose into Andy's shirt and then she realized that Andy too was awake.

A hand in her hair had her smiling, the fingers curling her hair around them made her smile larger. She let her lips brushed his knuckles, a promise.

Andy didn't stay out of bed long. His body was still exhausted, his side pulling with every step. It took time to get him out of bed, into the bathroom, but he was starting to do that on his own. Soon enough he wouldn't need the help. Soon enough he wouldn't wake her in the middle of the night because the pain was too much to bear and he had to get help.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Sharon had Emily help Andy from the bedroom to the dinning room once dinner was ready. Simplicity at the moment was key. Sharon had made pasta, some chicken, vegetables and potatoes for the children. She knew Andy was going to eat whatever she made and he did.

Andy managed to sit up through all of dinner, sometime after, before he gave Sharon a pained smile. Emily was talking about her book and Andy laughed at something the girl said, only to cough to cover the hiss of pain.

"Emily," Sharon said. "Go get ready for bed, sweetheart and you can tell Andy more about Peter Pan after that."

Emily looked at Andy, who was nodding. He gave Emily a warm smile. It was enough. The girl was still worried about Andy. Sharon had a conversation with Emily one night while they sat at the hospital about life and death. Their roles as police officers, what their job was. Sharon explained that the patron saint that Andy from time to time wore around his neck, watched over them. It was his job to protect the police, the army, and members of the community who promised to serve and protect and defend.

Sharon knew that Emily worried about having her mother being in the line of danger every day. It was why Sharon decided to take the administrative route in the police force, instead of staying in the Field. If she knew that this would have been her life five years ago, ten even, she would have tried to get Andy to choose something less direct. It wasn't her choice to make for him. It was a sort of punishment; help those who couldn't be helped while he struggled to stay alive.

Sharon sighed as she carried the sleeping children from her bed to their respective beds. After dinner, the five of them had crawled back into the big bed and listened to Emily read from her book about the boy who refused to grow up.

"Shh, shh, shh," Sharon simpered as Rusty began to fuss.

She had never had the chance to deal with him as a newborn. The fussiness that Ricky had, or that Emily neglected to have. Rusty whimpered at the cold, hummed at the warmth, lived for the mixture of both. Sharon brushed his blonde curls away from his eyes, leaned over the bars of his crib and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Rick had crawled into his own bed and gone to sleep without any prompting. Sharon was sure that Emily was still in bed with Andy. And sure enough, when Sharon stuck her head into the door, Emily was still curled up with Andy, the book open.

"…saying goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting," Emily read from her book.

Andy could feel his wife hovering. He looked over Emily's head for just a second and saw the wave of shadow at the door. Sharon was hiding, listening in – he grinned. She didn't want to interrupt their moment.

"Am I going to forget my Dad?" Emily asked seriously. "I mean, not you, because you're my Dad now, but my other Dad?"

"I don't think you will," Andy said honestly. "After all he was your father and no one can take that away, but honestly? There might be a day when it hits you that you haven't been thinking about him and that'll make you sad. But other times, you might think about him a lot, but no, I don't think you'll ever really forget him."

"You're never going away, right?" Emily questioned.

"Never is an awfully long time Miss Emily," Andy said, gently touching Emily's nose.

The girl wrinkled her nose, the sensation tickling her. She crinkled her eyes and pulled back, a light laugh escaping her. Those colored eyes of hers sparkling when she opened them up again.

"And I think it's time for you to go to bed," Andy said, nodding his head towards the door where Sharon was now standing, her arms crossed against her chest.

Emily closed the book and jumped off the bed, but not before leaning over and pressing a kiss to Andy's cheek. It was a start, he surmised silently.

"She's going to be dreaming about mermaids and flying ships," Sharon said. "Singing mermaids and hand eating crocodiles."

Sharon was crawling into bed, the covers already pulled back on her side from their nap earlier. She wasn't tired, at least she didn't feel tired, but she knew the minute she got comfortable, sleep would take her.

She took the position her daughter had earlier. A hand to Andy's chest, her head at his shoulder, her knees resting on his thighs; it was a great deal of comfort to be this close to him. Andy had wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the pads of his fingers trailing up and down the patch of skin that was within his reach.

"Do we tell her that Wendy grows up to have twins?" Andy asked sometime later into the darkness.

Sharon let out a laugh. Sleep hadn't come, her mind too busy with what tomorrow would bring. The first session for both, different times, different floors; it bothered her.

"That might disrupt her fantasy," Sharon said. "She wants her own piece of Neverland."

"I went to Neverland," Andy said, his tone basked in a hint of seriousness. "Second star to the right, straight on till morning – made all my dreams come true."

"Is that so?" Sharon asked.

"I got my own Wendy Mother," he winked. "Got a couple of lost boys and a Tinkerbell."

"You're a sap," she laughed, but knew he was serious. She was touched. "What about Captain Hook?"

"Provenza," Andy deadpanned, causing her to laugh louder and harder than she had in days.

Sharon listened to the rumble of her husband's chest. The feeling of warmth he brought. She was glad he was home.

When she was a child, the idea of growing up and growing old seemed farfetched. Growing up meant growing old and growing old involved real life decisions. Now that she had her own Tinkerbell, pair of Lost Boys and Peter Pan himself, growing up and growing old didn't seem so bad. She would continue to fight the Pirates, sit with the Indians, and swim with the mermaids. Real life would come back, but not until morning. For now, the Flynn household, with a little bit of Pixie Dust, would dream about the second star to the right and whatever adventures it brought.

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Thank you so so much for reviewing this story. I can't tell you how much it means to me. Hello to the new Followers, to the people who have favorited it and commented. Please keep it up! I love reading what you all think!

I had a lot of fun with this chapter. I love Peter Pan and have since my childhood, so writing this was especially fun for me. Can't wait to hear what you all think!


	8. At Seventeen

The aging of a daughter was the one thing father's worried about. It wasn't sexist in the sense that boys are stronger than girls and the boys could take care of themselves, but the girl's couldn't. Girls are vulnerable and that is rooted in them that can easily be taken advantage of. Girls wore their hearts on their sleeves. They're programmed to love whole-heartedly, to love unconditionally and to have that taken away from them? They need protecting. And that's where Dad's came in.

The truth of the matter is, somewhere deep down, it's rooted into a man that he must protect. Andy was given that mission in more way than one.

A man's daughter is his until she finds another man to protect her. Until then, he is her defender, he is the shoulder she cries on when the boys break her heart, he is the one who teaches her to ride bikes, play ball, do all the things that stereotypically mothers can't do. With Sharon and Emily, it was the total opposite. Sharon had raised Emily practically by herself. By the time Andy came back around, Emily already knew how to ride a bike, she hit a ball better than most boys her age and yet she still chose a pair of ballet shoes over cleats.

Nicole was at the age where boys were going to start looking and it made Andy clench his teeth. Emily was becoming that age where boys were going to think about looking and that made him sweat. She was tall, thin, and gorgeous; a miniature version of her mother. She had her mother's features, her father's snark, and a mind of her own that blew Andy away.

The previous year had come and gone without any more fuss. No more on the job scares, no more life-threatening cases, no more surprises. It was calm in comparison to the year they had before.

Sharon and Andy had gone back to work as normal, the kids went to school; the summer was the hottest LA had ever seen and the death toll rose. Not by choice, but apparently because the heat was an easier way to let bodies decompose beyond recognition which in turn made their jobs difficult.

Sharon had a meeting that night; Andy had been working on a pile of paperwork when she called him to tell him. The stack would wait; the kids on the other hand would not. So he did some driving around town, picked up the kids, dinner, and some groceries for the next few days before taking the lot home.

It was the giggling coming from Emily's bedroom that had him pausing in the hallway. He had his hands full with the week's laundry.

Most nights she had been asking to call her friend from school – Amy – and Sharon agreed as long as Amy's parents were okay with it. Before Emily could even ask, some nights, the phone would ring and Emily would disappear. Tonight, she was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her hair falling around her shoulders and she was twirling it around her fingers much like Sharon did when she was nervous.

"…especially not that," Emily was saying. "My Dad wouldn't like that."

Andy leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest, listening to both Emily and for the boys who had disappeared into their bedroom after dinner. Ricky tended to fall asleep quicker than last year and Rusty played with his toys quietly while his brother slept. As long as no trouble ensued, Andy didn't care what they did.

"They're police officers!" Emily giggled. "My Dad doesn't want me getting married until I'm _thirty_."

Andy smiled at the amount of disgust that Emily had as she spit out thirty. He could see her rolling her eyes before her lips melted into a smile and her eyes brightened up. Andy heard the scratch of the key in the lock and waited for Sharon to either call out or to come find the source of silence herself. Sure enough, five minutes later, after she dumped her purse, keys and poured herself a glass of wine she came searching. He kissed her hello gave her hand a squeeze.

With a finger to his lips, he pointed with his other hand to Emily and they, together, listened to Emily giggling over the phone. Sharon drank her wine while listening to her daughter. Emily was still giggling.

"How long has she been on the phone?" Sharon whispered.

"About twenty minutes," Andy said, checking his watch. "I'll give her ten more. I think she's talking about boys."

Sharon rolled her eyes and shook her head. There was no way that Emily could be talking about boys. Just the other day, maybe it was a few years ago, but just the other day Emily was going on about how boys had cooties.

"She's too young to be –"

"But he is cute," Emily laughed into the phone.

Andy lifted his hand as if to say 'Told You So,' and Sharon joined him against the wall. It would only get worse as she got older, he silently surmised. One day she would be talking about boys, the next she'd be bringing boys over and then she'll be talking about marrying boys, having babies with a boy, and it all just made Andy's head spin.

Ten minutes later, Sharon knocked on the door and Emily quickly said her goodnights to her friend, hanging up the phone. Sharon went over the nightly checklist to ensure Emily had done everything she was supposed to. The teeth were brushed, homework was done, checked twice by Dad, and clothes were picked out for the next day. It was all done.

Sharon had wished her daughter a goodnight with a kiss to the head and left the room. Andy was hovering in the doorway, his hand on the light, giving Emily a wink before he turned them out.

"Night, Dad," Emily called out to Andy.

"Night, Kid," Andy said with a smile, turning off her light.

It had been a few months that Emily started calling Andy, Dad. She was at a school function, Back to School night, when she brought over a group of her friends and introduced him as her Dad. Sharon had slipped her hand into his, tugged him ever so softly, and nudged him when he found himself mute. He managed to say 'Hello' but it shocked him. He wasn't expecting it and as Sharon pointed out, that was the point.

Every so often she slips in his name, more out of habit than menace. As of late, when it came to school events, or even talking about things at home, he was Dad.

Sharon was pulling back the bed when he came in from checking the house. He had put her finished wine glass in the sink, knowing when she got up in the middle of the night she'd wash it out.

For the past year, Sharon would get up in the middle of the night and take a walk through the house. She didn't know why – it just started happening after he came home from the hospital last year. Her therapist said it was a possibility that she was anxious, panicked that she'd wake up to an empty bed, and her mind was making her wake to ease that.

"She's going to be a heartbreaker when she turns seventeen." Andy said, slipping into the bedroom.

He went straight to the bathroom to change his shirt and pants before re-joining his wife in the bedroom.

"You think so?" Sharon questioned, throwing a pillow at him.

"She's giggling about boys now," Andy said. "What do you think she's going to be when she's older?"

"Giggling about boys," Sharon said with a laugh. "At seventeen, hopefully, she'll be too busy with ballet and school to be thinking about boys."

"What were you doing at seventeen?" Andy questioned.

He knew the answer. She knew he knew the answer to that and yet, he was going to make her smile. Sharon was young, naïve, had brother's growing up; younger sisters to nurture so the only influence she had were from her brothers and their friends. Jack was the younger brother of Sharon's oldest brother's friend. What mattered was that they were the same age, Jack and Sharon, and at seventeen Sharon was dating Jack, much to her parent's dismay.

"Making the boys cry," Sharon snipped playfully. "I had fun when I was seventeen. Didn't know what being an adult in an adult relationship was like yet."

"You turned eighteen and still had fun," Andy pointed out.

"I had _a lot_ of fun," she said, her voice dropping, emphasizing a lot, with a smile.

Andy dropped the subject. Jack had been gone for a while now. Two years coming up in a few months. The first year anniversary was torture. Sharon was angry, Emily was angry, and the boys were moody. Sharon threatened divorce and went as far as having her lawyer draw up papers. Not that he wanted to divorce her, he knew she didn't want to divorce him – the loss of a loved one was difficult. He signed them – which freaked him out when he thought about it – but he signed the papers to scare her.

"You want this so bad?" Andy yelled at her that night. "You want to get rid of me here, Sharon. Have it your way."

Andy had thrown the papers at her, slammed the pen down and stormed out of the house. He hadn't gone far – just to the local coffee shop where he forced himself to calm down.

When he came back, he knew she would have simmered down. The kids were away with their grandparents, thankfully, and it gave Andy a chance to talk to Sharon. It gave her a chance to do what she needed without the watchful, perceptive eyes of their kids. Upon his return he was met with the papers ripped up, neatly placed in a pile with a post-it calling him a couple colorful words.

That night he had crawled into bed and held his wife as she cried. The next morning, when the kids were dropped off, they took them to the cemetery to lay flowers for Jack. Every Sunday thereafter, when church was over, Sharon and the kids went to lay flowers for Jack. It didn't bother him, he knew, he understood and most times, while he waited by the car on the days he joined them, he called his own kids and talked to them for a little bit. It was a process, and it was slow, but it was moving.

"At least she's aware she's not allowed to get married until she's thirty," Andy said, pride filling him that the girl listened.

" _Andy_ ," Sharon sighed, crawling into bed. "I waited to get married until I was thirty."

"Honey, not only did you get married, but you had two kids before you were thirty," Andy reminded. "Me on the other hand. I waited. I waited until I was thirty."

"Liar," she grinned, smacking him on the chest. "You were worse than I was."

"Excuse me ma'am," Andy said, sitting up. "Let us remind the court that the youngest Flynn son was born _after_ my thirtieth birthday and let me further remind the court that I had three kids _after_ I turned thirty. So. Ha."

He leaned in quickly and pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling back with a grin.

"Take that counselor," Andy grinned leaning back in bed, a prideful look on his face.

Andy felt the bed shift and Sharon rolled onto her side. Her fingers found purchase on his right side, bunching up the material in order for her fingers to dance over the scar he had there. She had an odd fascination with it. He understood – she had a scar on her shoulder that was nearly gone now, but he knew it was there from a time when she was young and stupid and got herself shot.

"If I remember correctly," Sharon smirked. "The children of yours are all around the same age. The only child to be born after your thirtieth birthday, my dear darling husband, was Rusty. Everyone else was born before."

"I didn't come into fatherhood with the three other until after I was thirty."

"Ah," she said, nodding her head, agreeing. "But that wasn't the form of your argument. You implied that the children weren't born before you were thirty. They were born after and I'm negating that statement with actual biological truth."

"You suck," he pouted, curling an arm around her shoulders and bringing her further in.

They relaxed into the silence, the easy breathing of both of them the only sound in their bedroom. The kids were asleep, the baby monitor on and silent on Sharon's side. Put there because Rusty tended to get up in the middle of the night now, needing to go potty. He was old enough now to take himself, but the morning they found him on the other side of the railing, screaming and crying because he tried to escape – Sharon set the bars higher and had to get up to get him.

"If we met at seventeen," Sharon said into the darkness. "I don't think we would have made it."

He refused to say anything because he agreed. He was thick headed, still was, and a woman like that, seventeen with ambitions to be a lawyer – his hot temper wouldn't have been good for anyone. They would have had fun, god would they have had a lot of fun together, but it would have been temporary.

"Your addiction would have come around," she went on to say. "Maybe not at first, but eventually."

"Makes you glad it happened then and not now," he said, the joke falling flat.

"We would have been wild," she said, looking up at him. "It would have been fun."

He relaxed further into the bed, imagining Sharon at seventeen. Gorgeous girl who was the most popular in school had a line of guys waiting to ask her out. She was the one who every guy wanted to take with him to the prom yet she refused. Andy has seen photos of her from her senior prom. Wide smile, gorgeous green eyes on the arm of Jack who she was absolutely, one hundred percent, in love with. It was obvious to anyone who knew them or looked at them. It made Andy smile that Jack could provide her with that for a short time. Sharon deserved it.

Andy on the other hand, went to Prom with the hottest girl at his school. She wasn't the prettiest, but the hottest. It was a mandate to fill and Andy got it. He was proud then, his friends were proud, and now that he thought about it – the girl he liked wasn't all that popular, but she sure was pretty.

"You're going to have a heartbreaker in Emily," Andy said. "A moody child in Rusty and the laid back kid in Ricky."

"We can hope," Sharon said sleepily into Andy. "We can only hope."

It was the one thing that Andy thought about. High school was rough for anyone. He saw kids coming in to the office who think they're better than everyone else, when deep inside they know they're not. It's all a façade. They want to be the popular kid or the one that everyone talks about so they do extravagant things to be talked about and to become the popular kid. It's the kid's who are blinded by what other people think of them, they don't realize that the kid who they ripped off the bench that morning committed suicide. And it's because of them that they're dead, which makes it involuntary and they get arrested. Not all the time, but some of the time Andy sees it happen.

His main wish, for all of his kids, was to treat the nobodies like somebodies. That the lonely kid who was sitting alone at lunch one day, might not be the next, because one of his kids decided to be the bigger person and join them. Seventeen is an awful age for anyone. Male or female – it's an emotional rollercoaster.

Andy took a deep breath, turned his nose into his wife's hair and let out the day in a single breath. Thinking about his kid's turning seventeen wasn't what he wanted. It made him feel old and then secondary. When kid's turned of a certain age, the parent's were nearly non-existent. Andy found he liked being wanted; he liked being Dad. He wanted to stay that way and not replaced by some teenage kid who thought he was cool. Andy would put him in his place and remind him that Dad was always and forever would be cool.

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Thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter! I'm glad you all liked it.

Thank you once again to the new followers, the new reviewers, and the people who favorited this story. Keep it all coming! Can't wait to hear what you guys think about this one.


	9. If I Own Today

For the last five years, every Thursday, sometimes more, without fail he'd pray. Andy Flynn grew up in the church; his parent's taking him to mass every Sunday. It was only appropriate and slightly ironic that when he was dumped, left for dead, it was in front of a church. He had crawled in, drenched from the rain, and was met with the group of people who would understand his pain.

Five years of asking God to grant him the serenity to accept things that he couldn't change. Five years of asking God to give him the courage to change things he can. Five years of asking God to grant him the wisdom to know the different.

It was an ultimatum; live or die. Let the alcohol win the life he had built for himself or to live the life of an altered path that only he could create. He was given the chance to make it up; a second chance, given by God, to a man who was worthy of second chances. He tripped, he stumbled along the path, but he did not fall. He did not the demons of addiction prevail.

It had been five years – the day went by like any other. Flynn woke up, got the kids ready, kissed his wife before he left for work and smiled at the sound of his colleagues groaning that she was in the building. They had caught a case; a young woman dead on the side of the road, witnesses claiming she was thrown out. DNA was ran, the autopsy ordered, facial recognition being ran through their new program and the mountain of paperwork that had begun. It was a normal day. Come time to leave, Andy politely excused himself from the harping of the newest Detective and went to church.

The familiar faces from the week-to-week meetings had provided Flynn a comfort. It was a small enough group that people could let everyone in on their week. The newest member or members always went first. Some had fallen off the wagon and had come back. Others had never been to a meeting before and they needed help. Flynn was asked from time to time to be a sponsor. If it wasn't for the kids, if it wasn't for the job, if it wasn't for the dull ache he felt every so often, he would. But he didn't trust himself or them. He knew what it was like to fall fresh; uncontrollable and angry. He didn't need that around his family.

It was a quarter to eleven when he finally got home. It didn't hit him until he got to the first meeting that he needed a second. During the second one, he didn't share. He just sat back and listened, the lives of other people's putting his into perspective. He had family; he had a wife who loved him and he loved. He had five kids who he would sacrifice his entire life for ten times over. He had a job that he was good at, although being a cop was never what he wanted to be. Yet again, there wasn't another occupation that he saw himself being in other than a cop.

Flynn parked the car in the driveway, next to Sharon's. The kid's stuff was stuffed in the back window, making him smile. It had gotten to the point where they switched cars if needed. If Sharon had to leave for work early, she would take his car. They stopped switching out car seats when Ricky outgrew the booster seat and Emily got a seat of her own.

The porch light was on; the telltale sign that Sharon was still awake or knew he wasn't going to be home until late. She usually kept it on if she went to bed, knowing he'd turn it off whenever he got home. But what met him was a balloon on the entryway table, a path of streamers on the floor, and a large sign in the kitchen entryway reading CONGRATULATIONS.

His family, his wife and three kids, all sat around the large dining room table that held up a cake with the number 5 on it. He was touched.

"Why aren't you guys in bed?" Andy faked annoyance.

He watched as Emily flashed a look to Sharon who merely winked at the girl. Emily nodded and raised her head.

"I'm not going to bed." Emily deadpanned. "I'm too old to have a curfew."

Andy narrowed his eyes at the girl. Then Ricky popped up with his face full of icing. Sharon didn't waver despite her surprise. The boys probably already had their bath, and due to the hour wouldn't get another until morning. Rusty on the other hand had slipped out of his chair, no seat, and went to Andy. In his hands, dragging behind him really, was a card that was at least double his size.

Andy picked it and his son up with one fall swoop. He gave the card a once over and then narrowed his eyes at the kids.

"You think this get's you out of not being in bed?"

He looked to Sharon and gave her a raised eyebrow. She knew his sobriety was important to him. She was the one who kicked his ass and dumped it at the church that rainy night. She told him to grow up, get help or to never speak to her again. By the look on her face, he could tell she was having a hard time deciphering whether or not he was really angry. He wasn't. He was just – on edge.

"We got you cake," Emily said with a hint of sadness.

"Oh," Andy said, with a smile. "Then you guys can stay up."

It was like the tension in the room immediately deflated. Sharon let out the breath she had been holding and reached out to grab Rusty from her husband. The boy was still young enough to be held, yet with every passing day he got heavier and that was going to be a stop to being held long before his age. Yet, she cradled him to her chest with an arm and leaned over to light the five.

"Just our way of saying we're proud of you," Sharon said, lighting the candle. "Em?"

"And that we love you," Emily supplied, with a small.

Emily went to stand next to Flynn as he gave the candle a good look. Was he to wish for more? Would that be considered selfish? He wanted another five years and another five more after that. Every day was a trial. Every day had the potential for him to slip. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and blew out the candle. The room clapped.

Once the cake was cut, the single piece that every one shared gone, the kids were put to bed. Emily was wired, but would fall asleep once she got comfortable. The boys would be fine alone in their room, their beds surrounded by toys to keep them quietly occupied. It would be a struggle to get them all up in the morning and to be at their respective locations on time, but they would find a way. It always happened.

He remembered when he was sober for five minutes. He felt proud then he wanted a drink. He remembered when he was sober for five hours. He was proud, in the middle of a parking lot, and wanted a drink. Then came five months, he had been at work for a couple weeks, and wanted a drink. He realized when the year marker came that he didn't want just one drink, but a whole bottle. He realized when the second year marker came that he didn't want just a whole bottle, but the entire bar. That evening he called an old friend, arranged a meet at the local coffee shop, and the rest was history.

That was the thing though, the catch twenty two of the situation. He wanted a drink, he wanted a bottle, he wanted the bar to drown his sorrows. The night Jack died, he wanted to drink. Good god did he ever. Not just to toast the man who was his drinking partner, once upon a time, but to a fellow brother. Jack and Andy frequented meetings until Jack stopped going. Jack was on the up and up and Andy followed suit, only to be pulled back in. It wasn't until later that Andy found out, Jack fell victim too.

"Thank you," Andy said into the darkness of the room.

Sharon was in the bathroom, cleaning her face. Something she had to do every night before she went to bed regardless if she had washed off the day's make up before. She wanted to feel fresh.

He went to her. He always went to her. He pressed the palms of his hands against her hips, his lips burned a trail into her neck, his teeth pulling at thin skin when he felt her back into him.

"You saved me," he said hot in her ear.

His fingers had found skin, the band of her pants was where he tucked his thumbs. One hand kneaded flesh, his lips marking her. She didn't move to stop, she didn't tell him to, the hard swallow he felt against his lips was the only sign to continue.

"You brought me back from the dead," Andy said, pressing his lips against her cheek.

All movement stopped. He looked up at her, their eyes matching in the mirror. Her chest was rising and falling; the rapidness starting to subside. She licked her lips and gave him a small smile.

"You did that for yourself," she said, reaching back and around to hold him to her by the neck.

Sharon let out a shaky breath when Andy rocked into her. Her mouth fell open just a fraction. They were still fully clothed, she knew what he wanted because she wanted the same.

"You went to the meetings," Sharon said as his hands began to roam, her breathing starting to hitch. "You got the help. Not me. _You._ "

"If it wasn't for you," he said, pulling material away. "If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here. We wouldn't be raising three kids in this house I bought for us and I definitely wouldn't be doing this."

Sharon surged forward, her hand catching the knobs of the sink. She gasped as Andy moved behind her. She stopped him, forcing him back with a hard shove to the thigh. He looked wounded, scorned, and she didn't miss the flash of hunger in his eyes either.

Five years ago, this was their battle stance. Him in front of her, her leaning back against the sink. He had come in, angry beyond belief, alcohol on his breath, and took her. He wasn't making love to her that night; he was trying to reclaim the power he lost. For weeks she had the bruise of the sink indented in her back. For weeks after it healed she had phantom pains. If she let him take her, then and there, five years later, history would be repeating itself.

The children were younger then, they had been with Jack that night, and Sharon hadn't had Rusty yet. She was younger, angry at her husband, and the motion of having this tawdry affair in retrospect made her feel dirty. While she was in it she felt alive. She felt good and he made her that way. There had been nights when she knew Jack wouldn't be coming home and had Andy come over. She was glad that old place had been sold when they were separated – the places they had sex on was nothing short of sanitary.

Thinking of it now it made her blush. He had that affect on her. But they were older now. They were smarter now than they were then and this wasn't an affair. This was their marriage. This was _their_ life.

"You saved me," Sharon said after a moment of silence. "You got me out of the darkness and if it wasn't for you I would be a very different person."

"How so?"

"I would be cold," she shrugged. "I would have raised my children alone, the department would hate me more than they do, and nothing would be right."

Sharon went to him and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I wasn't lying when I told you I loved you then," she said. "It was a different kind than now, but I did love you."

"I know that now," he nodded.

When she pulled up the church, the one she knew Jack had gone to, she told him she loved him. That she was doing this because she loved him. In return he told her he hated her. It was difficult for her to not get out of the car and to help him when he stumbled and fell, slipping on the curb. In retrospect it wasn't her job. She was in the process of leaving Jack, had made that decision earlier in the day and already contacted her lawyer. She wasn't expecting this to happen.

"I wanted to hate you," he admitted. "It was so easy to."

Sharon nodded and brushed her hand against his chest. He was one of the first anti-Raydor train when she made the transfer to Internal Affairs. She didn't have a choice but he didn't care. The new job brought in more money, gave her the option to make more money quicker. It wasn't going to be spent on anyone but her children, but he didn't care. She was cold, she was a bitch and there was nothing else anyone would have been able to tell him that would change his mind.

"I realized that –" he started. "I had to make amends and instead of making them with you I condemned you to hell."

"Some say I was already there," she mentioned, tilting her head. "You did make them with me. It took you a couple years, but you did it. I am so proud of you."

He smiled at her.

"You go through your steps every year," she continued on. "You ask for help when you need it, you know that you were powerless and would become powerless if you went back. You have ridded yourself of the evil of it and you know that once upon a time, a long time ago, it controlled your life. Now you are in control of your life, not the alcohol and you own every day without the question of if."

He kissed her then. The urge beyond his control. He took her to bed and they were awoken a few hours after sleep finally took them.

Everyday he asked God to give him the strength to not drink no matter the craving. Every day he asked God for the courage to talk about his problem with other's if the matter came up. Every day he asked God to give him his family the protection against the evil of his addiction.

On the night she dumped him, physically and emotionally, she told him to own up to it. Own up to his addiction and he refused. He refused to believe that he was in trouble, because he could function. He was a functioning alcoholic, until he wasn't. Until the darkness began to not only own him, but his family as well. Then he went searching for ways to turn that around, to buy his life back and it own it again.

Everyday he didn't drink was a victory. A small win in the long line of indicators that told the story of his battle. It was a reminder that he owned the day, and if he owned today, he could own tomorrow. He had dreams he wanted for his future and when he woke in the morning he thought of those dreams. As he woke, making his way to the kid's bedrooms, his dreams coming to mind – he had to take one step at a time and just own the day.

* * *

My favorite episodes tend to deal with Andy's alcoholism. Partially because it's rooted from truth and it's amazing to see the journey both of them men over the years. But because I have family members who deal for the addiction.

ANYWAY. THANK YOU so much for the reviews. I appreciate them all. I can't wait to hear what you guys think about this chapter.


	10. Kiss the Air

The door slammed, Sharon jumped, the kids cried. That was the usual succession of events. Not tonight.

It was a fight they had over and over again. Their work had made it home, a promise they made to each other that they swore would never happen. It had come, it was there and Sharon was left, as always to clean up the mess.

It was a normal day, like no other. She had a pile or reports that she had to go through. The less meaningful complaints were set aside in my stack, phone calls would be placed – the other's that required her to leave her office and got the respective floor of the officer were set in another. The ones that had to have case files opened were small, but time consuming and those were left for lunchtime.

Her day was methodically planned out. Phones calls would take two hours, then the field trips would take another couple of hours, a little more if the officer was feeling a little testy and then she'd stop in the break room of her floor, grab a vending machine sandwich and go back to her office. With the promotion came the office, the office hadn't provided an amazing view, but she still got one of the city.

What brought her work home was the file for one Andrew Flynn. She rolled her eyes, pressed her fingers into her temples and wished away the headache that would come to her. Once again he was rough housing it with another cop. The cop who was punched filed the report, Flynn had also sent up a report, but not for the altercation. Her fingers itched to lift the phone, to call him and yell at him, but the time would come.

"Hey," he said hours later when he saw her in the hallway.

She had done everything in her power to ignore him. She was investigating him – she couldn't talk to him unless she had to. That's the part of her job that made life difficult. When she wanted to rant and rave about cases, she was bound by silence and bound by confidentiality. It shouldn't have surprised her that he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the nearest emptied room.

"Andy I can't right now," she said, trying to push him away as his lips traveled down her neck.

"I've missed you," he groaned into her neck.

"Andy I'm working," she sighed. When he didn't let up, she gave him a good shove, watching the disappointment flash behind his eyes.

"Since when has that stopped you from having a quickie?" The words left his mouth before his mind could catch up.

He was in trouble and he knew it by the way she spun around and stormed out of the room. By the time he stepped into the hallway, looking left before right, the click-clack of heels were already around the corner.

If they hadn't had sex that morning when they woke, again in the shower, and if he didn't have a _quickie_ with her before she was completely dressed, she would have allowed it. Never mind, she corrected in her mind, she wouldn't have. It was different when they were at work. There was something about explicitly not bringing their home relationship into work that provided her a sense of comfort.

Andy Flynn had come to a full stop when he got back to the bullpen. His partner was giving him a slight headshake and the junior officers were doing everything in their power to not look at him. He took a look around and that's when he spotted it. The Commanding Officer was standing with Sharon, near his office, waiting for, what Andy could assume, was him.

When she saw him, she straightened and no one else but him saw the slight tap of her fingernail against the file. Then it hit him. He was being investigated. _Again._ It would explain why she refused him, why he hadn't heard from her all day.

"Captain," he nodded, stepping up to them. "Sir."

"Flynn," the CO said with a nod of his head. "Looks like you got yourself into some sort of trouble."

"Guess so sir," Andy shrugged. "Let's see what I did this time."

The formal charges would be conduct unbecoming of an officer. The recommended course of action would be an anger management course that would take place over the course of a week. Any other actions would be made by the Commanding Officer of the division prior to the closure of the case. The case would be closed when the course was completed; the officer in charge signed off, and an interview was conducted with the officer in question.

There was no suspension this time, for which he was grateful. The suspension wouldn't look great on his file, not that the handful of anger management classes looked great either. He figured he should just be grateful he didn't get suspended and take the offered day off.

That night, when Sharon turned the key in the door, she was met with a very angry looking Andy. He was sitting at the table with an opened bottle of Jack in front of him, a tumbler in front of him that was full to the brim. She watched from her spot at the door as he tossed it back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he poured another glass.

"Andy," she softly called out. She ran a hand across his shoulder and he shook her off.

"Fuck you," he said, taking the next shot.

She swallowed hard and moved to take the bottle away from him, only to have him standing up, the legs of his chair scrapping against the floor. It was enough to make her jump and enough of a hesitation to get the bottle himself. He took a drink right from the top.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Sharon snapped, watching as he rounded the table on shaky legs.

"You," he snapped easily. "You are what's wrong with me. You and your job."

Sharon looked taken back and then she schooled her features. She raised an eyebrow and flattened her fingers against the cool wood of her dining table. She tilted her head at him, looked to the bottle and then to the man in front of her.

"You're drunk," she stated.

"Hell yeah I am," he grinned around the mouth. "Can't deal with your bullshit rules without it."

" _Andy,"_ she sighed. "Put it down, let's get you some coffee."

She heard the low rumble of thunder outside and the room filled with a quick, sharp, bright light.

When he didn't move, she moved instead and went to the coffee machine, pressing the power button and was reaching up for a cup, when his hands settled on her hips. He knew her inside and out, physically and mentally. He knew what turned her on, he knew what made her think. He knew if he kissed her shoulder, and he knew that if he pressed into her hip with the right amount of pressure, she'd become weak in the knees. The lack of emotion in their activities brought out the hunger within her and he loved it.

He turned around just as quickly, and wretched into the sink. A warm hand at his back provided a small comfort as the alcohol came back up. It burned worse coming up then when it went down. It gave him a bitter taste in his mouth, worse then normal. Maybe it was a mixture of guilt, knowing that what he did wasn't smart. It wasn't his fault the kid was mouthy and had a hard on for the same woman he did.

"Come on," she said, entangling her fingers with his and pulling her down the hallway.

She took him to the bathroom and made him sit on the toilet as she got a warm washcloth and pressed it to his forehead. She handed him a cup of mouthwash and had him spit it back into the cup before tossing it into the waste. She was content with him there while she got ready for bed, where she was going to pull him into when she was done. It was an emotional day.

Another rumble shook the walls of her apartment. The storm was coming closer and she winced as the sound of the feet above her. She kept an ear out for the kids. Nothing.

"I really hate your job," Andy said, standing up and standing behind her.

She looked at him in the mirror and gave him a sympathetic smile. When he did something that she had to investigate then it was rough.

"Why can't we just- "

"Because it's complicated," Sharon said, wiping the makeup off with the small cloth. "And I'm not just going to shout it from the rooftops either."

"Sharon," Andy groaned, stepping into her and pressing her into the counter. "C'mon, what's there to lose?"

"My children," she said, giving him a challenging look. "I'm not going to lose them over this."

He spun her around and slanted his lips over hers. In hindsight he would regret this moment for the rest of his life. He would wish that what he did had never happened. But he was angry. He was so angry.

Andy swallowed the moans, the cried, the sharp hisses that came from Sharon with every kiss. He lost himself in her as he thought back to earlier in the day when she looked cold, hard, and militant. Now she was hot, soft, and very not militant. She was his and not the cold bitch the LAPD was making her into. He didn't know that woman. He didn't like that woman. He liked the one who was falling apart in his hold.

When he was satisfied, he made sure she was. There wasn't going to be a day when he'd forget the sound of her losing control. She liked so much to be in control and he reveled in taking that away from her. The power she wanted, craved so much in her life, was taken away with a simple kiss, a press of finger to the right spot.

She shook as she fell apart. She let out a sob as she gasped for air, making it sound like she let out a sob. Even if she did it fell on deaf ears. The blood was pulsing in Andy's and he pressed a kiss to her forehead when he left her, turning back into the bedroom.

"You're not staying here tonight," Sharon said, her voice cool. "So don't bother getting undressed."

"Sharon," he said pathetically. "Have you heard what it's like outside?"

"I'll drive," she shrugged. "I'll get the neighbor to watch the kids."

The power flickered on and off. She grabbed the car keys and knocked on the door of her neighbor, explaining the situation to her. Thankfully it hadn't been too late and the woman was still up. Sharon was grateful that the woman had just slipped from her apartment and into Sharon's easily enough. Andy had come stumbling into the hallway, cracking his shoulder on the frame as he did.

An arm around his waist was the only thing that kept him up. Slowly, the headache was starting to pound behind his eyes. It was in rhythm with his breathing, which made it that much more difficult to breathe. He wanted to badly to just fall into bed with her, to make it up to her in the morning with breakfast in bed, a series of kisses that was his apology.

He was slumped in the front seat, the seat belt hanging by the door. It was a rule in the car to put their seatbelts on no matter the distance, but as Sharon pulled away, down the street in her pre-determined direction, she found herself not really caring what happened to them if they had gotten into an accident.

The weather really was atrocious. As she came to a stop in front of a dimly lit church, Sharon was sitting in a pool of water that was mid-tire deep. She was sure if she opened her door the water would pool into the vehicle. She spotted an open door and pulled up to it, figuring it was easier to get to and less wet.

"Where are we?" Andy questioned, his voice a gravelly groan.

"You need help," she said, staring straight ahead. "I realized I was going easy on you earlier today. But I will be making an amend to your file. Mandatory rehab, mandatory anger management, and mandated therapy pending your arrival back to the field."

"You can't do that," Andy growled at her. "You have no _fucking_ –"

Sharon turned in her seat and took his chin in her crooked fingers, forcing him to look at her. Pain filled his eyes and she thought fleetingly for a moment, _Good_. Then she released him.

"You've lost your children," she said, sticking the knife into his back. "You're going to lose your job next if you don't own up to this disease. You're going to die if you don't own this disease as your own. You have to own today if you're going to own tomorrow and as of right now, the disease is owning you."

He swung the door open and the rain was pouring. He stuck his feet out and instantly his feet were soaked through. His pants were drenched, dripping with water. He braced himself, taking a deep breath, before rising and getting further drenched.

He leaned back down, getting her car wet, and narrowed his eyes.

"You're a bitch, you know that?" Andy questioned. "No wonder your husband can't keep his pants zipped. He probably hates you too."

With that Andy Flynn stood. The door slammed with such force, the car rocked back and forth for a part of a second. It made Sharon jump, but she sat still, staring ahead of her.

She watched as Andy took a step and slipped, his hands coming out to brace the fall, but crumbling under the pressure. She wasn't sure if his head hit the concrete but when he stood back up, she couldn't bare to watch anymore of him struggling.

She had gone back home, thanking her neighbor once again and they talked about the weather for a moment before the older woman slipped into her own home. She was drying her hair when the tears came. She was slipping out of her wet clothes when the ache in her chest came. Standing stark naked in a spot where he and her had made love multiple times had her lungs begging for air.

The panic had set in and refused to recede. It wasn't until later that she picked herself up off the floor and went to bed. It wasn't until the next morning that she saw the white envelope by the lamp in the living room. Jack's handwriting on the front – she had missed it the night before.

Upon opening it and reading over it she realized that, right then and there, she was alone. She was going to raise her children by herself, that her husband had left her, she had kicked her lover out and quite literally to the curb – she brought this on herself.

Sharon sat, now, in the floor of her closet. A box of mementos from her previous marriage rested in her lap. The first note of many that Jack left her opened in her fingers. She had found it the morning after. Sharon shook her head and crumpled it up. It was an apology from Jack, a wish that she would get the white house, a new husband, one that would treat her better, that would love her the way she wanted, with the kids.

A knock on the bedroom door had her jumping out of the memory.

"Hey," Andy said popping his head around the door of the closet. "You find it?"

"No," Sharon said, shaking her head. "It might be in the boys closet."

"What do you got there?" Andy asked.

"Stuff from Jack," Sharon shrugged. "Ask Emily to check her closet. It might be in there."

"Okay," Andy nodded, leaving her be.

He knew that if she was engrossed in walking down memory lane, it was for the best to just leave her. She'd come to him if she wanted.

 _So if you find yourself missing me, just kiss the air. If not it's okay too. I don't expect you to. Take Care, Sharon. – Jack._

Sharon ripped the note, put the cover of her box back on and stood. She put the box back on it's shelf in the back of her closet and closed the doors. She missed Jack and missed the good times. She missed the friend she found in Jack and she missed the beginning of what they had. So she pressed a kiss to her fingers and pressed them against the wood before leaving her room.

She pressed a kiss to the air and hoped it found Jack, wherever he was. As she lifted Ricky, finding the boy running through the backyard with a bubble wand, the ache in her chest that had been there was gone. She finally managed to say goodbye, to let go of the past, and to move on with the future. A simple kiss to the air.

* * *

Thank you all to who have been reading this story! It's starting to wind down a bit. A few more chapters to go.

I'm sorry for the delay in posting! FFN was down and prevented me from posting. BUT. I hope you read this chapter and enjoy it. Let me know your thoughts!


	11. Say Goodbye

To watch Sharon put the pieces together in her mind was extraordinary. There was a flash of surprise, followed by a look of excitement and then her eyes would dart back and forth before her lips pursed into a thin smile. Depending on the information, the dots that were connected, her lips would curl in the corner. Then she was ready for battle. She was ready to rip the suspect to pieces.

It was strange having his wife walk around his room controlling every aspect of it. From the officers to the evidence she was in charge and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. She walked in with her bag on her shoulder and as soon as she set it down, Andy's team started to rattle off information. They just knew. They sensed the power shift and it came in the form of Sharon Raydor.

For work purposes she kept her name. It was what was on all her paperwork, it was on her ID – to have it changed at work – it would give people a few coronaries if she did. It would be confusing to have two Flynns walking around. One with an impressive resume and the other with a not so impressive jacket.

When it was in relation to the kids, she was Mrs. Flynn. When it involved personal things, she was Mrs. Flynn. It was nice to be able to work for her and then work with her when the need came. Rarely did the two mix and when it did, he hunkered down and braced himself for the storm.

It was what he was witnessing now. The woman was embodying the role of a mother who was a cop. A kid, he was a kid, sat across from her in the interview room. They were staring at each other, the silence in the room thick with tension. He risked a glance at the monitors and then around to the other people who was standing behind him, watching the master build the kid up only to rip him to shreds on his way down.

"Where were you last night at ten p.m.?" Sharon asked, her voice thick and dark.

"At a friend's house," the boy shrugged.

"Do you know who Leslie Russell is?" Sharon asked, tapping her pen against her notepad. The boy shook his head. "She's a young woman we found earlier in the park. Your name was the last call placed from her phone. Care to explain to my why that is?"

Once again the boy shook his head and she let out a breath. She tilted her head at the boy before looking to her pad of paper. Mostly it was blank, a few scribbles, a couple of notes she had taken from the Team's initial analysis of the case.

The boy across from Sharon didn't need to know she fabricated the list of calls. She was going to implicate the boy for murder, scare the crap out of him and send him home to deal with his parents. It was not going to go over well, Andy figured.

"What else can you tell me about this outing with your friends?" Sharon questioned. "Drugs? Alcohol? Sex?"

The boy looked chastised as she rattled off the possibilities. He blinked a couple times, then looked down and then up again. His cheeks were red and his eyes beginning to water.

Flynn heard a couple people behind him exchanging bills, whispering their congratulations. He waited because he knew. He knew her better than anyone else. To get the boy to cry was part of her game. She was a vulture waiting to swoop down and take her prize. In this case it was a confession.

"Which was it?" Sharon asked, pressing the matter. "Drugs? Alcohol or Sex? Or all of the above?"

"All of the above," the boy said demurely. "But I didn't have sex. They wanted me to but I –"

Sharon raised her hand, instantly silencing the boy. She didn't have time for his excuses. She didn't have time for his lies especially when patrol brought the boy in, the contents of his pockets had been searched and an empty condom wrapper was tucked deep.

"You took drugs?" The boy nodded. "You drank alcohol?" The boy nodded again. "And yet you don't know who Leslie Russell is."

"No I told you –" the boy began only to stop when Sharon gave him a glare over the rim of her glasses.

Sharon straightened up in her chair and clasped her hands in front of her. "Leslie Russell was found dead this morning. The Coroner puts her time of death between 8:30 and 9:30 at night. Depending on when you were intoxicated, all evidence, cellphone records included gives you enough time to kill her, to go back to the party, get in the car with your friends who dropped you off at home."

She watched as the boy's eye's widened, surprise taking over. The water began to pool quicker and he roughly brushed away the tears.

"The drugs you took mixed with the alcohol would have killed you," Sharon continued on. "But you didn't take enough to do that. The alcohol in your system over stimulated the drugs which is why your memory is short, why your head is pounding, and why you're lying to me without knowing you are."

"I didn't kill her!" The boy let out, a choked sob bubbling up. "I don't even know her!"

A knock came at the interview room door and Sharon looked up. Mike Tao entered, a grim look on his face.

"Ma'am, we found something," he said, nodding his head towards the room. She nodded, giving him a single finger, wanting a second.

Sharon took a deep breath and raised herself out of her chair. "You are going to sit here until I come back. When I do, I will have the DDA with me, you will be properly charged on first degree murder and then we'll see if your memory has changed."

Flynn met her in the hallway. The kid was only 17, old enough to be tried as an adult, a mistake gone haywire. At least that's how she was presenting it to him.

It was interesting to watch the woman who once upon a time wanted to be a lawyer. She wanted to fight the people who wronged others, defend the good and battle the evil. She wasn't able to and was forced to bid farewell to that girl. She became the cop instead. She became a mother instead.

It was still fascinating to watch her slip into that persona. Not perfected, not like the woman who was in the box with the kid, but she was still on par. She paced as she rattled off statutes. She pointed out facts instead of fiction, brought up the opposing counsel's argument and negated the side the LAPD would be on. It made the team work harder, faster, and more efficiently.

"He's not going to tell you anymore," Andy said when she ordered the rest of the team to serve the search warrant to the fiancé of their victim. "He didn't do it and I believe him."

"He didn't murder anyone," Sharon sighed. "That much I know. The drugs and alcohol? I have a problem with. The lack of communication with his parents? I have a problem with."

Andy nodded. He watched as she went to the office she claimed while she temporarily took over. It had a window that overlooked the city, and a window that looked into the murder room. It was how she found out that Patrol hauled the kid in.

It was nearly twenty minutes of answering phone calls, replying to messages, and finding out which District Attorney was able to cross the street to scare a teenage kid. Andy grinned into his coffee cup, cold from the morning, as Andrea Hobbs came into the room.

A single raised eyebrow asked the question as to where their suspect was. He pointed down the hall, indicating the interview room. She nodded and Andy went, snapping his fingers as his colleagues. It was bad enough to have a seasoned cop on the side of the table, but a lawyer who could make your life hell on a dime was another story.

It was a magic show, really. They had the boy confessing in seconds. Andy had good fortune to lean back in his chair, whistling at his wife.

"Flynn, get in here," Sharon snapped.

Flynn hesitated for a moment to watch the boy's reaction. The kid was stone cold on the other side. He was being charged for murder as an adult. Flynn, who roughed him up when he first got there, was now going to haul him out.

Flynn swung the door open with a bang. He reached over in a quick stride and pulled the kid up by the shoulder. With a firm grip on the shoulder, Andy hauled him back, having the kid stumble into him. It wasn't fair, was going to be the cries when Flynn put him in the back seat of the car that was going to take him away.

"Where to Captain?" Flynn questioned.

"Just get him out of here."

Flynn nodded and practically dragged the boy out kicking. He couldn't find his footing. Good. It meant that the kid was either still partially high, or still partially drunk. Either way, a recovering alcoholic and a teenage drunk was not a good combination.

In the middle of the murder room, the kid had an audience. It was worse than being torn down. It was a familiar setting, the watchful eyes of cops surrounding him. It made the kid swallow hard. He stumbled a foot away from Flynn when the older man finally released him.

"You are going to sit your ass in that seat," Flynn said, pointing to Sharon's office. "You so much as move and I'm going to make sure you spend the night in lock-up instead of in your bed."

"Dad I-"

"Go," Flynn said darkly. "Now."

It was a matter of minutes before Sharon came out of the interview room. They really didn't have any evidence to implicate anyone for murder. They just had a dead body on their hands, with scratch marks as defensive wounds, a thin line across her neck, which indicated partial strangulation, but nothing more and nothing less.

Sharon had gone into her office and packed her bags. She hadn't spoken to her son and was not going to until she was calm enough to do it rationally. His siblings were made aware of the situation, since the patrol officers yanked him out of bed per his mother's instructions. His brother and sister were there to witness.

The guys would call Flynn if anything came up that needed the Captain's attention. Otherwise, they weren't to be disturbed since they had to deal with this family issue. Provenza would take lead and the other four would manage without them if necessary.

The car ride home was silent. Sharon drove – it calmed her nerves. The vibration of the engine in the wheel, the bumpy road under her tires – it calmed her. It gave her control of a situation. What happened with her son was not in her control. He was too relaxed and slipped right out of it, hurting him, and as she implicated earlier, hurt others.

"Go to your room," she ordered before he was even out of the car.

The front door opened and the siblings came stumbling out. Emily first, with worried wide eyes and Rusty who was looking as confused as everyone felt.

The boys knew Dad didn't drink. It was just a rule. Emily knew _why_ Dad didn't drink and accepted it. When Mom got home from work, after a particular long day or a rough day she would settle down with a glass of white wine. It was always one. Never two. The boys never questioned why.

Sharon shook her head at her children and they both moved out of the way as their brother was brought home. Until Sharon stepped up to the front door, she was in cop mode. She brought her son up to the door and pushed him through it, before taking moment.

A parent had called her, one of Ricky's friend's saying that she found alcohol bottles in the trash. Her son had admitted to her that they had done drugs and some of them had gone up to the boy's room to have sex. It was a party. They were teenagers. Sharon understood that they did things, but she never expected her son to do those types of things. Not with the knowledge of what his parents did for a living.

Then again, she thought, as she collected herself at the front door. Ricky acted out because of what his parent's did. His parent's were cops. They knew the law better than anyone else, because they saved people. They upheld the law to a certain point and ridded the streets of evildoers who broke the law. If _he_ broke the law, his parent's would deal with it. That maybe, because they were his parents, they'd give him a break.

She shook her head. Not a chance. It was why she hauled him out of bed. It was why she made such a spectacle of bringing him downtown, through the murder room and had him sit in the interview room for nearly half an hour before talking to him, because she was cop. She was also his mother. As his mother she wanted him to be safe. So? The best way to do that was to put him someplace where she could watch him. He wasn't seven anymore, he didn't come to her with a skinned knee that he cried about and wanted her to make it better. He was seventeen. He could clean up his own injuries. Like his wounded ego.

Flynn had ordered Ricky to his room and the boy was slipping down the hallway when Sharon came into the house. Emily was at the table, her schoolwork displayed in front of her and Rusty was lounging on the couch with his legs up in the air. Sharon knocked them off the back of the couch and the boy sat up. Andy bit back a grin. No one was in the mood to deal with a pissed off Mom.

"Is Ricky going to jail?" Rusty asked.

"No," Sharon said quickly. "He's not. He should, but he's not."

Sharon squeezed her husband's hand in passing. She wanted to change out of her work clothes, into something more comfortable.

Dinner would be a quiet affair, Flynn knew. He had made up a simple dish, chicken and rice, pasta and salad on the side. The children, dutifully sat quietly, ate their dinner and politely asked to be excused. Emily had to finish her work; she was working on transferring out of her school and moving. Rusty wanted to play some sort of computer game and Ricky was sent back to his room.

Over the years they added onto the house. When the boys became of a certain age when sharing a room was just not wise, they contracted a deal for more space added onto the house. They opened up the kitchen, added another bedroom, and bought the property next to them.

On a cop salary, they couldn't afford it. Unbeknownst to the kids, Jack left Ricky and Emily a good chunk of change to play with. Emily got her first cut when she turned 18. She offered to pay for part of the refurbishment as long as she got herself a small studio. That became her bedroom. The rest was put away for college, which she was using as tuition and payment for transferring across the country. She was smart. She was awarded scholarships. It was going to be an easy move for her, but not her mother.

"Are you ever going to talk to him?" Andy questioned his wife. "Because I'd like to tell him a thing or two."

He was still angry. She felt it. She could sense it. It was why she didn't send him in there with Ricky when they first got home. There would have been yelling, screaming, cursing and someone storming out. She had a long day and she didn't feel like dealing with it.

"I will in a moment," she said, with a smile.

Sharon knocked on her son's door some time later. When there was no answer, she turned the knob and let herself in. Her son was lying down, with his hand clasped over his chest. It was a posture her husband took up quite often. It made her smile a little but she quickly put that away and schooled her expressions.

Ricky immediately sat up, on the edge of his bed and waited for the lashing. He knew it was coming. He expected it. It was why he just laid there for hours since he got home, waiting for it.

"I come in peace," Sharon said, holding up her hands.

She took his desk chair, turned it around and straddled it, leaning against the back of it. She took in her son who looked horrible. He looked like the little boy who got hurt on the playground. He looked like the little boy who was told that Dad had gotten shot. Again. He looked scared and worried.

"One question." She said. "Why drugs and alcohol?"

She wasn't going to touch the subject of the open condom wrapper. She was going to let her husband take the reigns of that horse.

Ricky shrugged and looked at her. "I don't know."

"Richard," Sharon said. "You do know. Why did you do it?"

"I wanted to know, I guess," he shrugged again. "Dad doesn't drink I want to know why. They told me the drugs wouldn't do anything so I figured why not?"

"If I tell you to jump off the Los Feliz Bridge would you?" Sharon questioned. "If I gave you my gun and told you to shoot whoever came through the door next, would you?"

Ricky shook his head. "No."

"No," she repeated. "You wouldn't because you thought why not. Dad doesn't drink because he's an alcoholic, sweetheart. Just like Jack was. Dad doesn't drink because he could die if he took another sip. He knows that. _You_ Richard William, can have one drink and be fine. You're young, you're clean, but Dad is not."

Ricky never asked why. He found no need to. He accepted it and moved on. He knew his father had problems. He knew that Jack wasn't the greatest guy and when he asked about it, when he was like eight or nine, she explained what happened to him. The memory of the event was vague and murky.

"You are 17," Sharon went on. "I could have tried you as an adult for doing drugs and under age drinking. Andrea could have thrown you in jail for at least five years because why not?"

Sharon leaned forward and took his son's bowed head in her hand. She raised it to look at him.

"I've told you to be safe and to be kind," Sharon said. "Over and over again. Being safe is not going to parties and doing things you shouldn't. Being kind is not going to parties and doing things that could harm you or others. Do you understand me?"

Ricky nodded. "How pissed is Dad?"

"Sweetheart," Sharon sighed. "He's ready to kill you."

It was said with a hint of humor. They both knew that Andy would never lay a hand on any of them. Pissed off, the man could be and got to that point very quickly. Toe to toe Ricky had gone a few times. Ricky always lost, but learned a lesson every time.

Sharon let her son be. She wasn't going to be the hard ass parents who drilled rule and regulation into their brains. He understood her rules, he lived by them every day. She couldn't fault him for being a child. She could though fault him for being incredibly stupid.

In the hallway she smiled. She never had thought that she would be the type of mother to be calm and rational. When she first started she thought her work would travel with her home. That the hard ass cop she became at work would be inflicted on her children. She said goodbye to that woman when she separated from Jack.

She said goodbye to the woman who had to be alone the day Andy proposed. They were partners. She didn't have to run anymore. She didn't have to move heaven and earth to take care of her children while she also tried to take care of herself. She had someone else to do that.

It was a Friday. Ricky would have the weekend to think about his actions, to think about the definition of the word 'Friends' and hopefully would make better life choices. He would help Andy with the yard, he would catch up on the missing work his teachers called Sharon about from time to time, and he would hopefully say goodbye to the boy who was in her interview room.

* * *

Thank you for those who have been reading! This is the chapter that was supposed to be posted today so ya'll get double today! To clarify, Sharon was remembering the fight she had with Andy before they broke up. The letter she had in the end was from Jack who also left her that night. She's just remembering.

Let me know what you think of this chapter!


	12. The Journey

There were times when Andrew Flynn enjoyed just being a Dad. He enjoyed the warmth, the love, the feeling of pride when one of his kids did something good. He relished in the glow of his children's faces when they beamed with pride. He got angry when they were misbehaving, distraught when they were troubled, annoyed when they were hiding. It was what being a Dad was all about and in the last fifteen years there wouldn't be a moment he would trade.

The boys, he had three, had become friend's. His oldest had moved away, the strain on their relationship quasi-permanent. They talked on the phone, corresponded via mail, but it was strained, bordering on awkward and strange. Andy had long come to accept that he would be a stranger to his oldest. That his oldest wouldn't know him like the other boys did. He was fine with it, accepted it, but he still tried for a relationship.

His daughter's were inseparable and that thought scared him. Nicole was almost done with college and Emily was in the final stages of moving away. Nicole had found a job locally in LA while Emily found a school in New York. The girls had spent their nights talking and laughing, giggling and doing each other's nails. Sharon had gently nudged them together, declaring she wanted to get to know her stepdaughter. It was a fair want, not that Andy's ex-wife saw it that way. The girl's were adults and could make their own decisions.

Andy had been in the living room when he heard the front door open and slam shut. It wasn't his wife; it wasn't the boys because they had something to do with friends of theirs. The only person who would come and go as she pleased would be Emily and by the sound of that door, Flynn doubted she was pleased.

"Em?" He called. No answer.

He waited in the living room, turning off the TV – the Dodgers had a home game sweep against the Giants, the pitcher was on his way to beating his own record. Sharon had been pulled in for a meeting of some sort with Taylor – a case that she had to make priority. Flynn had wrapped up the bulk of his paperwork; whatever it was that he didn't finish would have to wait until he got results back from the morgue and from ballistic lab and the DNA.

"Emily?" He questioned again, calling out her name a little louder.

There was a thud, followed by another one, this time hitting the wall and then what sounded like her yanking the door open to slam it behind her. Her stomping down the hallway, banging around in the kitchen before she finally appeared in the living room with a bottle of water in her hands, preceded that.

Normally her red face, water eyes, and defensive posture would bother him, but his wife called, his daughter called, and something had happened with Emily. Neither one told him what had happened, not that it mattered, because Emily would tell him. She, whether she knew it or not, told him everything.

"Whose ass do I need to kick?" Andy questioned.

She let out a choked laugh and shook her head before giving him a look. "Bobby," she said sadly.

Andy nodded once. Bobby was Emily's boyfriend. Or well, now ex-boyfriend, and bothered Andy from the beginning. He wanted to run a background check, Sharon said no. He wanted to ask him the fatherly questions and Sharon said no. He was going to shtick the boys on him, but Sharon had already intervened and threatened the boys that if they did anything to sabotage their sister's relationship they would be grounded until the day they were eighteen.

He offered her his hand and she hesitated. She gave it a look before finally taking it. He squeezed it and raised it, pressing a kiss to the top of her hand. It got her to smile, albeit heartbroken.

"C'mere," he said, jerking his head over his shoulder.

He took her down the hallway that was lined in pictures from over the years. Sharon and the boys when they were enrolled in Little League Baseball. Each had their trophies above their heads. The team had won first place.

Another was of Emily, her freshman year in High School, her hair was pulled up, her posture straight with her toes pointed perfectly. A professional photographer had come into the studio she was with and captured it. She was pensive and deep in thought; the little girl who was determined grew up into the woman in front of him, crying over a boy.

"Right here," Andy said pointing to the spot he was standing in. "I stood here listening to you giggle over boys on the phone. Your mother stood there."

"Rude," Emily quipped with a small smile.

"It made my heart sore when you told your friend you weren't getting married until you were thirty," Andy replied, a smile on his lips.

" _Dad,_ " Emily sighed. "I might want to get married before I'm thirty. I am a replica of my mother am I not?"

"Watch your mouth with that one," Andy warned, stepping in quickly.

The last thing Sharon wanted was Emily growing up and making the same mistakes she did. Marrying Jack, in the long run, was a mistake, but the gifts he had given her in their early years were not. She took pride in her children and all of their accomplishments. It was her greatest fear that they would get wrapped up into the fantasy of adulthood and fall in love too quickly with the idea of it all.

"You laughed over boys," Andy said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and cupped her face. "They suck now, but one of these days, when you get older, you'll laugh again."

"You think so?"

"Sweetheart, I know so," Andy nodded singularly.

It was going to be them for the most of the night. Sharon had called him before dinner, apologizing that the meeting was taking longer than expected, and she'd be home late. The boys weren't going to be home either – despite Rusty being a minor, his brother had recently turned 18 and was going to be the responsible adult.

He had made her comfort food ranging from chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and whatever else her heart desired. They had curled up on the couch together, a throw blanket over Emily and watched a movie.

"Why do boys suck so bad?" Emily asked, causing him to laugh. "I'm serious! All of them. Everyone under the age of old, sucks."

"I'm going to take offense to being called old," Andy said, poking her in the side causing _her_ to laugh.

"You're my Dad," Emily pointed out. "You're not supposed to suck."

He bit back a remark he knew would get him into trouble if he said it out loud. Taking the higher road, he refrained and tightened his hold on Emily.

"Young men," Andy emphasized. "Want different things than they do when they get older. They're going through changes that make their bodies go nuts. It's a thing."

"It sucks," she said, sighing again. "Mom is lucky she has you."

There were moments when he was touched by something one of his kids said. This was one of those times.

"But look what she had to go through to get me," Andy said. "I wasn't the nicest person on the planet when you were younger. Angry all day long, thirty for a drink all the time, and anything would set me off. It wasn't until your mom knocked some sense into me that I realized what I was missing. So really. I'm lucky to have your Mom."

"And me, because the three of us are a packaged deal." Emily quipped, repeating a line that they told Rusty a long time ago when he asked about being adopted.

It had worried him that he was adopted. He was used to calling his parents Mom and Dad and there wasn't anything else to it. He didn't know about his mother, he didn't know about his father, not until Sharon sat him down one night, after his brother and sister were told to make themselves scarce and explained it to him. He was ten.

"Who broke up with whom?" Andy asked mid-way through the movie.

"I did," Emily said quietly, watching the young girl on the tv run down the driveway of her home. "He wanted me to chose between him and my family."

Andy gave her a look that got her to continue.

"I'm going to major in Dance," Emily stated. "So I'm going to need a lot of, you know, free time to do things that I won't be able to do during the week. The closer we get to finals, my weekends will be taken away too."

It won't be until the winter that she would come home. They would have Christmas and New Years with her before putting her back on the plane and sending her back. Then she would come back for Spring Break, and again for a few weeks in the summer.

"Bobby wanted me to give up that and stay here with him," she went on. "I couldn't do it. I love Dance too much and school is paying _me_ to go there."

Andy nodded. He knew. He was grateful that he didn't have to spend a load of money to send his kid to a prestigious college on the other side of the continent. Not that he wouldn't, but he had other kids to worry about. What they were going to do with Ricky, they didn't know. He was accepted into schools up north, but he hadn't made a decision on any of them. He had a few more weeks. With Rusty they had a few more years.

"I told him I wasn't staying," Emily said. "I told him I wasn't going to put my dream on hold for him to live out a fantasy."

She had said it with such disgust that Andy felt a little nervous. The anger within her flared. She had put too much time and effort into dance. She loved it more than she loved anything she's ever done.

He remembered the mornings of recitals when Sharon traded going to work early for going to the recital, and Andy had to help her with her hair. Most of it she had done herself, but there were little things he did. Before she went on, no matter the age she always sought him out in the crowd and waited for his approval. He always gave it.

He was asleep with her in his arms when Sharon came home. Emily had curled herself into Andy sometime, her knees on his lap, and her head on his shoulder, tucked away safely. Sharon had gone through the house, flipping off lights, checking the messages on the machine, and changing out of her work clothes before waking her husband and daughter.

"Emily," Sharon soothed. "Emily, sweetheart, time for bed."

Emily moaned, curling deeper into Andy before stretching her legs out. Sharon bit back a grin at the way her daughter arched her feet, even in a sleepy stretch. Always a dancer. The girl blinked up at her mother and then turned her attention back to her Dad. She moaned again before stifling a yawn into his chest. It was then that she got up, swayed, but with the help of her mother was stabilized.

Sharon watched as Emily made her way down the hall and quietly closed the door. Bent over, Sharon brushed the pads of her fingers against Andy's cheek, the nails scraping at his hairline. He would wake eventually and she too would put him to bed. She repeated the motions until his face tensed, his body stiffening and his breathing quickening. She knew she woke him.

He groaned and stretched his arms above his head, before blinking wearily at his wife. He looked down at the spot where his daughter had once occupied and then back to his wife who was seated on the table.

"Emily?" he questioned.

"In bed," she answered. She stood and offered her his hand. He took it and got to his feet.

The next morning he was met with a cold bed, the aroma of coffee and breakfast wafting in the air and a little note penned by Emily.

 _Surprise!_ It read, peaking his interest enough to pull him out of bed and down the hallway.

He was fighting back a yawn, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth when a cup of coffee was presented to him. Emily had it raised high, cradling it in both hands. She smiled wide when he took it and spun around to go back to her cooking project. Bacon and eggs, toast and a spread of fruit sat on the counter. He was impressed, worried because his daughter refused to eat anything other than salad, greens, and whatever was healthy.

"Where's your Mom?"

"Hunting down the boys," Emily shrugged. "Ricky, I'm just going to blame Ricky because of the –" she waved. "He decided to pull one over Mom and put, not one, but two stuffed dummies in their respective beds to make it seem like they were home."

Andy groaned and rubbed his forehead. Ricky was going to get it from Sharon and if Sharon didn't ream Ricky and Rusty a new one, he would. Rusty was starting to get mouthy and for that Andy put the blame on Ricky. He had told Sharon that, she didn't want to believe him, but when Rusty snapped at Sharon, sounding much like his brother, Sharon shut him down. He never did _that_ again.

"And you decided to make breakfast?" Andy asked, picking a grape out of the arrangement.

"I had to do something since my plans were changed," she shrugged.

Breakfast had been plated and served yet neither one of them made a move to go eat it. Emily was cradling her own cup as she browed the list of last minute things before she needed to move tomorrow. It was her last full day and she was starting to feel it.

Her room would always be her room as long as her parents didn't move. Her brother's would always be her brothers and after ten years of marriage, she was pretty damned sure her parents weren't planning on getting a divorce any time soon. Although, someone had made a crack that it was a ten-year holding pattern and after the tenth year they all would be able to breath a little bit better. And while Emily wasn't going to say Ricky's name out loud or point fingers at Ricky, she may have let it drop that her brother was venturing into dangerous territory.

The boys came through the door while the food cooled. Ricky and Rusty were dirty from head to toe- dirt smudges on their faces, clothing torn, hair a mess; the sight of it was worrisome. The cause of it made Emily laugh out right and tear up. Circumstances aside, Andy was glad the girl was laughing.

"Get that grime off yourselves," Sharon ordered. "Then you are going to take your clean selves and wash both cars."

When the boy's dutifully nodded, Rusty stopped. He raised his hand mid way and Sharon gave him a hard look.

"This better have the word's I'm sorry somewhere in whatever is about to come out your mouth Russell Thomas."

Andy turned partially away, giving his daughter a raised eyebrow. Whatever they were doing was enough to warrant the full name. If it was illegal Sharon wouldn't have said a word, but then again the boys were older and if it was illegal she would have given them the riot act.

"I'm sorry we trashed the car," Rusty said. "And I'm sorry that Ricky is an idiot."

"Rusty," Sharon hissed when the boy cracked a grin. "Shower. Car. Clean. _Now."_

Emily turned twenty and the girl got a car. Sharon and Andy were each issued their police vehicles so they didn't need to buy another car. But the deal was, you graduate high school with straight A's and you get a car. Ricky, short and A in his core classes, made up for it in his extracurricular class, therefore earning him a car. Which was now totaled and as Rusty put it, trashed.

It wasn't until both boys were out of sight that Sharon turned around and put a smile on for the other member's of her family. She took Emily's face in her hands and pressed her lips to her forehead.

"I am so glad you turned out normal," Sharon sighed.

"Mom, I'm pregnant," Emily deadpanned.

There were times when Andy Flynn was glad he was a Dad. He was glad he had the chance to take his kids out and teach them how to play sports, he was glad he got to take them to dance class, he was glad to be the sounding board for when his kid's needed to rant and rave at someone other than Mom.

Standing in between his wife and daughter, this was not one of those moments. This was a moment he was really glad he was a cop; he was a husband, and a husband who was a cop. Reflexes kicked in and he stood between his wife and daughter when Sharon looked like she was ready to scream. Both hands on her shoulder's he pushed her away and out of the kitchen into the hallway.

"She is kidding Sharon," Andy said, his hands framing her face. The last thing Emily was was pregnant, thank god. "She's in a weird mood this morning."

"I'll say," she sighed. "Did everyone decide to take a stupid pill this morning?"

"I guess this isn't the greatest time to tell you," Andy began. "With Emily moving and all."

"Andrew Flynn so help me _God_ , if you think whatever is going to be funny, let me assure you it's not and I'm not in the mood."

He laughed and brought her too him, hugging her and giving her a tight squeeze. She groaned into his chest, beating her fists against his back but he took it. He took it because he understood. He took it because she was his partner and he was hers. It was a journey that they decided to take the minute they said 'I do.' It was a journey they decided to take together. And so what if there were a couple of curve balls thrown their way, it was all part of the adventure.

* * *

Three chapters in 2 days! For those of you who managed through the other two yesterday, thanks for reading. One more chapter to go which will be posted sometime tomorrow. I've got a busy day and a late night planned so hopefully I'll get a chapter posted in the morning.

Thanks for the love! Keep it coming!


	13. Goodnight

The phone call came at a quarter after three in the morning. There was no doubt that it was work, it was his cellphone ringing. If it was anything else, Sharon's phone would be ringing. As he rolled over with a groan, Andy reached over for his phone. He answered it with a grunt and then he sat up.

The caller was not Provenza or anyone who was related to his the job that brought in money, but the other job where his money went to. His kids.

Emily had been gone for twelve hours, sixteen minutes and a handful of seconds if anyone was keeping count. The time ticked by and everyone got a little bit better about it. Sharon cried as she kissed her daughter goodbye. The boys had been silent, the lack of their sister's presence weighing heavy on them. Inseparable the three of them were and now it was just the boys to fend for themselves.

It was the first night Emily was not home and Sharon refused to go to sleep right away. She wanted to keep checking in with her, but by the time she finally fell under the spell of sleep, it would have been too early for Emily to be woken up by her worried mother. Sharon was going to have to wait until it was an appropriate time for both of them. Apparently that time was now.

He asked Emily to give him a second. He had to put on a pair of pants, a shirt, and make himself somewhat presentable in the case his conversation attracted a crowd. Andy tucked the blankets around his wife a little bit better and she shifted in bed, her arm curling out and seeking the warmth that belonged to him. He held a breath as he hoped she wouldn't wake. When he knew he was safe he stepped into the hallway and made his way down it quickly.

"Emily?" Andy asked into his phone. "Why are you calling me on my work phone? You okay?"

"Daddy," she simpered, her voice thick with emotion. "I think I made a mistake."

Andy sighed as he lowered himself down on the couch. He ran a hand through his hair before changing his mind and getting to his feet, heading into the kitchen. He hit the power button for the coffee machine, checked to make sure there was some in the bowl and closed the lid content on waiting for it to heat up. He had a feeling he was going to be awake for sometime.

"What're you talkin' about Emily?" Andy questioned, pressing the button for the coffee machine, the machine coughing as it took in water and began to brew the coffee. "Are you okay?"

It bothered him that she was still sniffling on the other line. She had a roommate, a girl named Maggie, who he could only imagine was not enjoying this meltdown. Or Emily really was in trouble and she made a mistake that had her in the middle of the city with a complete stranger. As he poured a packet of sugar into his coffee, Andy tried to push that idea from his mind. It would be no time at all to get him and his wife on a plane to hand a good kick to the ass of whoever made his girl cry.

"I think I want to come home," Emily said. "I hate it here."

"Emily you just got there," Andy said. "Have you even left your dorm yet?"

She fought Andy tooth and nail over wanting the real college experience. She really wanted to be in a dorm for her first year and if and when she got a job, she'd save that money and put it towards a down payment for rent. Andy had explained to her that the rent in New York different than the rent in Los Angeles. The prices varied and New York was more for less. She wanted it. She wanted the experience. He caved.

"I don't want to," Emily moaned. "Dad this is all horrible."

She was almost twenty one and thankfully there was a holiday the week her birthday fell and she was able to be home for her birthday. It worried him that she wasn't going to be home for the milestone. He didn't want her out in the world, drinking at a bar and have some guy find out she was turning twenty-one and think it was cute to drug her drink with a roofie.

"Emily," he sighed, taking his cup to the dining room table. "It really isn't. It's only six in the morning. You have that orientation get together thing in a few hours. Go take a walk around the campus or go back to bed."

"But Daddy," she cried.

It was like she became a little girl over the phone. Her voice cracked and his heart broke. She had been away from home before. During the upheaval in Downtown, Sharon took it upon herself to send the kids to her parents up North and they took the kids across the country. It wasn't the same he realized, but still, they had been away from home for two, almost three weeks while their parents continued on and did their jobs.

He heard the soft footfalls in the hallway. He hoped it wasn't his wife, but the movements were measured, the boys would have stumbled in. Sure enough his wife came into the room, an amused expression on her face. She raised an eyebrow in askance and Andy shook his head adding a wave of his hand.

"Emily," he sighed, interrupting the teary plea to bring her home. "Em-"

"Let me talk to her," Sharon ordered, shooting out her hand for the phone.

Andy shook his head and waved her away. "Emily."

Sharon wouldn't let up and shot her hand out again, waving her fingers this time. Andy shook his head and stood. Emily had resorted to begging. She would pay him back for the price of a ticket, for the money that it would take to ship her stuff back. They had ordered all of her things from a website the school suggested and her apartment was furnished when she came in. It made a nice hole in his pocket.

"Emily," he said, more forceful. "Listen to me, for a second, will you?"

Sharon gave him a disapproving glare but he just brushed her off for a second. Emily called Andy, not her mother. Andy. Why? He didn't know. But he was going to take care of her, over the phone, three thousand miles in between them.

"You know you're going to love this school," Andy said, remembering when she first got the acceptance letter. "You've got to give it a chance. In order to do that you have to go to your orientation, listen and go on their tour, get to know the people, and I promise it'll be okay."

"But-"

"Emily you're mother is standing in front of me and I need to be able to tell her you're okay," he said.

A minute passed and her voice filled the phone. "I'm fine."

Andy nodded and watched as Sharon deflated a little bit. Emily was going to shower, get dressed and take a tour of her building. By the time she hung the phone, giving Andy a detailed run down of her day, Sharon had already gone back to bed and it was almost five in the morning. Then the phone rang, both hers and his, at the same time and they were called into work.

He had a cup of coffee before he left the house, and another before he got into the office. Sharon had asked him about Emily when she woke up again and he assured her their girl was okay.

It wasn't a normal day by any standard. He had driven Sharon to the crime scene, where two slain officers laid in the street. Murmurs of keeping them there had been mentioned, since it was FID policy since shots were fired by officers. Sharon and Taylor agreed that the cops who discharged their weapon weren't going to be answering questions and that they had better use of their time searching for the people who did, their fallen were moved.

Rusty had come in and helped them out. Ricky had bought everyone lunch. Hours had gone by, Emily not on his mind until his phone rang when he poured himself into the front door of his home, Sharon on his heels. The boys had left the station, went shopping, if he remembered correctly.

The first thing he wanted to do was to shower, get the day off of him. He wanted to change into something clean, kiss his wife, and be glad that she was okay. He assumed she wanted the same. It was difficult being an officer of the law, knowing that it could be. That their shift could be their last, that the morning routine of kissing their kids, taking them to school, might not happen again, was daunting. He was just glad that she was with him when it happened as selfish as that might be.

"Whoever it is can wait," Sharon groaned as she stepped into the hallway.

"It's your daughter," Andy said, waving the phone in the air.

Too tired to move anywhere else that was comfortable, Andy answered the phone in the hallway. When he answered he could hear commotion in the background. It made him smile a little. It meant the girl was out, mingling with other people her age, doing things college students should do. Within reason, he amended.

"Emily?" he asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" Emily shouted. "Hold on. Dad?"

"Em?" he questioned again. "Where are you?"

"Times Square!" She said, staring up at what was considered to be the crossroads of the world. "Dad this is so pretty at night!"

Andy grinned and mouthed her location to his wife. She smiled and nodded, content on letting Andy find out what the reasoning behind her phone call was.

Wherever she stepped into muted the sound of shouting and traffic. The horns of honking was softer, the sound of traffic almost mute.

"Excuse me," he heard her say, always polite. "Sorry. Excuse me. Thank you. Sorry."

Wherever she was it was crowded he figured. Sharon was giving him a look. She wanted to get him into the shower and then she wanted to shower. Among other things he mused with a wolfish grin as dropped a kiss to her lips as he listened with an ear to Emily getting herself to a quiet spot.

"She's in some sort of room," Andy said. "I think. It's a lot of apologizing."

"Daddy?" he heard her question. "Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Andy said.

He listened to her sigh and he could just see her now, sitting on a bench or in a chair in some book store near by and tilting her head back. She'd stretch her legs out in a way only a dancer could and arch her feet within her shoes.

"Are you still at work?" Emily asked. " I'm so sorry about this morning. I totally spazzed on the time change. Wait. Are you and Mom still at working. Do you need to get back?"

"Emily it's fine," Andy laughed into the phone. "We just got home. We're actually here only to shower and then head back. Big day at the office."

"I saw something about it earlier," Emily mentioned. "Everything okay?"

"Two officers were shot and killed this morning," Andy said. "We're trying to find out who did it."

"Any idea who did it?"

"We have some leads," Andy said, rubbing his forehead. "Listen Em, I'm glad you're calling me but Mom is over here giving me the evil eye."

Sharon in fact was not, but she did roll her eyes at him. He puffed out his chest with a grin, only to deflate when she hit him with the back of her hand. He let out of a huff of laughter.

"Right," she said. "Listen Dad, I think I'm going to stay. For a little while at least."

"Uh -huh," he nodded, getting pulled into the bedroom by his impatient wife.

"Maggie isn't too bad. She's a dancer too. Her Dad left when she was young too." Emily mentioned. "But her Mom didn't get remarried so I guess we're different in that sense, which is good. But oh my god, Daddy, this place is so pretty. There are actual color on leaves and Central Park, Dad, we need to bring Mom in the fall. I think she'll fall in love with it."

"I'm sure she would, Em," Andy agreed.

"I just wanted to say sorry about this morning," she said. " I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine Emily," he said. "You can call us at anytime. You know that."

"I do," she said, nodding her head all the way where her Dad couldn't see her. "Okay. Well I'm going to let you go. Tell Mom hi and that I love her."

"Will do."

"Love you," she said.

"Love you too," he replied quickly, knowing his daughter liked to get the word out and hang up the phone before she could say anything else.

She never said goodbye, or bye, or any form of it. It resorted back to her days of being obssessed with Peter Pan and stories of loss when the last thing their families said to each other was goodbye. So joy, no love, a simple dismissal. She didn't like it. So she didn't say it.

It was midday when Andy Flynn finally returned to his home to sleep. His phone was in his pocket all day, on silent, not wanting to deal with it if he didn't have to. The boys understood the importance of the matter and would only look for them if it was an emergency. A note had been on the counter left by Ricky, indicating that the boys would bring home dinner again after classes.

Emptying his pockets, Andy dropped his stuff in the bowl, taking his phone out. He pressed the home button and saw he had a few missed texts, some from the boys, one from Sharon, updates on the case, and a handful of photos from Emily. He'd have to show them to Sharon when they got up. He also had three missed called from Emily too. He pressed the speaker button and listened to Emily's voice fill the bedroom.

"Hi Dad, Mom, dweebs, just wanted to say hi and hope the case is going okay. Love you!"

"Dad, remind me to tell you about the Mets stadium, you're going to hate it." Emily paused and then continued on. "It's not like Dodger's but I might be able to catch a game. Let me know what you think. Love you!"

"Hi Mom and Dad," Emily said into the phone. "Saw you guys got the guys. Just wanted to say I love you guys, I had a great first day and you'll probably be falling face first into bed, so, love you and goodnight!"

He smiled as he curled into bed, around his wife who had gone ahead of him. Exhausted didn't begin to explain the feeling his body was going through. His legs were jello, his body ached and he just wanted sleep.

His mind drifted to the days when Emily would curl up with him and fall asleep. He remembered just a few days ago when she fell asleep with him after crying herself to sleep over a boy and woke up again with dried cheeks. She went to sleep not wanting to dwell on it and the next morning was the beginning of her new life. He had put her to bed as if she was still that little girl giggling about boys, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and bid her a goodnight.

The dreams he had for his family came to him in sleep. He wanted Emily to be a prima ballerina, he wanted Rusty to a strapping young man who was smarter than most kids his age, and wanted Ricky to be this computer genius. He already was, but Andy wanted to witness it.

Dreams by definition is a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep. Those bothered him because the good one's he couldn't remember. He wanted to remember what caused him to wake with a smile. The thoughts, images, and sensations he witnessed every day filled his being with some sort of euphoria. The dreams at night were missed, but while awake, he didn't forget a thing. As he fell into bed, his arm curled around her waist, he took a deep breath.

Every day that he was able to dream wide awake, was a day he was content losing sleep.

* * *

Thank you all so much for sticking around this story, I can't tell you how much your love means to me. This is the last chapter for this story and as of right now the last chapter for this world.

I'll have a new story posted in a few days maybe, in a week or so.

While you wait, let me know what you guys think of this story/chapter! Thanks again guys.


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